


Seraphim

by shadowsofvanity



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Genre: F/F, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-05-24 18:38:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 67,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14959979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsofvanity/pseuds/shadowsofvanity
Summary: Alternate Earths have been theorized for centuries, confirmed for scant decades, and not yet understood in any sort of detail. Yet across them all, it was thought, only Humanity existed in sentience upon the physical plane. The truth, however, could not have been more different. From one of these far worlds came the Fallen Angel known to Earth Bet as Anette Hebert, who hid her nature behind the guise of the parahuman Uaibhreach, and the day would come when her daughter would take up the Mantle of Power and continue her works...NephilemTaylor, FallenTaylor, HeroButNotPRTTaylor, Taylor/femharem (its Highschool DxD, what do you expect?), IndependantHeroTaylorThis story will also be posted to FF.net, AO3, QQ, and Sufficient Velocity. Links will be added when appropriate. Any and all adult content will be posted to the three former sites, while SB and SV will of course have their rules abided by. One musn't earn the ire of the mods, after all.There is now a TVTropes page for this story! Please feel free to add any tropes!There are other pages to be found!





	1. Prologue

_Raven hair, long and in cascading curls, drifted gently in the warm summer breeze that warmed the studio through its open windows. The long, slender fingers of an artist’s hands drummed on a desk of mahogany as jade-green eyes glared in profound frustration down upon the sixteen polished objects resting ever innocently upon its dark surface. They seemed to mock her with their unchanging faces, uncaring and unaffected by all of her efforts these past years, but she learned more and more about them with every attempt. Someday, she would succeed and then…_

               _“Momma!” the patter of a child’s bare feet slapping on a hardwood floor and a cry of her title both interrupted and provided warning, and she swiftly spun her chair around just in time to catch the flying body of her five year old daughter, who was giggling gleefully at the ‘fun’._

_“Taylor, what have I told you about that? Its rude, and you could get badly hurt if I didn’t catch you in time!” she scolded her precocious child for what felt like the thousandth time, and said child merely giggled louder before responding._

_“But Momma always catches me, because Momma won’t let me get hurt!” Taylor chirped back happily, the chastisement going the way of water off of a duck’s back. To the young mind cradled in her arms, it was an irrelevant comment because her mother obviously wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her. With the speed of only the young or the frenetic, Taylor’s attention was caught by the very objects that had been the focus of her mother’s ire only moments before. “Mommy, why do those toys feel icky and slimy? I don’t like them…”_

_“They’re very special, my little owl.” Anette’s voice was soft as she ran the fingers of one hand through a head of hair so very like her own. “Someday they’ll be clean and Pure, and safe for you to use. Then, they will help you make the most loyal friends you could ever hope for, and you can be a hero like you always wanted.”_

_“REALLY? Like Alexandria and Legend and Idol-long?” her daughter gasped excitedly, clapping her hands happily as she listed her favorite heroes in order of preference. She wasn’t to fond of Eidolon, always insisting he looked ‘super grumpy’ on the television. Her mother laughed and tweaked her nose._

_“Eidolon, dear, and yes it would be just like them. Someday, you’ll be the greatest hero of all time. Everyone will know the name of my baby girl.” Her mother promised, to the delight of Taylor who nodded emphatically in agreement. “Why don’t you go pick out a movie for us to watch until your Daddy gets home?”_

_With a loud exclamation of eager assent, Taylor popped out of her mother’s lap and dashed out of the room, chattering to herself about what movie she wanted to see the most in that particular moment. Anette’s own good cheer faded as she turned back to her workspace. To the gleaming, polished black stone, surrounded to her eyes by a seething, black-tinged crimson aura of power._

_“I’ll succeed eventually, you know.” She murmured to the distant former owner of the artifacts, and more besides, that she had claimed before fleeing to this world so long ago. An ancient enemy of both herself and a world at large. “When she becomes everything she is meant to be, she’ll tear your little kingdom down around your ears and drive you screaming into the Abyss like the worm you are. I swear it.”_

_With that she swept from the room, closing the door to her studio behind her and making her way towards the living room. The time would come where the weight of Creation rested on Taylor’s shoulders, but for now her beloved child was just that: a child. And by God she would make sure Taylor’s childhood was a good one._

_############################################################################################_

_“She looks more like you every single day, sweetheart.” Daniel Hebert, a six foot two inches tall, ranking member of the Dockworker’s Union whose wiry and thin build somewhat disguised the powerful muscles contained within his skin, told his wife. He was no linebacker, no broad stone wall of a man, but a life of physical labor in the Lord’s Port of Brockton Bay ensured that he was not someone to try and brawl with. Even with the golden age of sail long since over, the advent of forklifts and massive cranes taking the figurative and literal weight off of human workers, it was still not the sort of job where one could avoid performing significant amounts of physical effort for long. The physical prowess of himself and his compatriots, as well as their tendency to take no shit and work in unison with one another in reaction to threats, ensured that only the most drugged-to-the-gills of Merchants were willing to tangle with them. “She’ll have to beat admirers off with a stick…or two.”_

_His beloved wife, curled happily into his side where they sat on the couch, snorted softly in amused agreement at the not-insignificant understatement. She might not be the most vain member of her race, hell she wasn’t even the most vain by purely human measurement, but it was equally true that she was (literally) inhumanly beautiful. It was only natural, then, that her daughter would take after her when it came to looks. Once puberty hit, it would become even more apparent. No A-Cup angst for_ her _baby girl, oh no! She cackled mentally at the thought before sobering._

 _“She’s taking after me for power, as well. She is going to surpass me, surpass_ everyone _Danny. She’s already flaring noticeable, and it won’t be more than a year before she blossoms.” She told her husbandly solemnly, no pride nor exaggeration colouring her words or tone. Her husband nodded in agreement, having no reason to doubt her claims. He knew how beyond the average parahuman Anette was, and he was entirely willing to believe (parental pride aside, of course) that Taylor would be even more so. “I expect that Emma will be her first Companion when the time comes. They’re already inseparable, and I can’t imagine Taylor asking anyone else.”_

_“Neither can I, but Emma has never struck me as someone who is going to spend a lot of time on the front lines. She’s more of a support-type, I suppose. She’s always been Taylor’s friend, rather than Taylor being hers.” Danny mused, his tone making it clear (as if clarification were needed) that he meant no disparagement to the young redhead. Despite her hair color, she didn’t really match the overall stereotypes, lacking a volcanic temper. At least half of the girl’s day was spent reigning in Taylor when his daughter was in full-blown motor-mouth mode…or when she was displaying the temper she had inherited from him. Oh, Anette was hardly a wilting wall flower, the very idea was comically absurd, but she was always more forgiving than him. Ironically, given the stereotypes about her race in mankind’s myths and legends._

_“Taylor will need a rock, an anchor of steel, and Emma already does the job perfectly. She always has.” Anette gave a lazy shrug beneath his arm. “I’m just worried that any old ‘comrades’ of mine, or enemies for that matter, will go after her to get at me. I don’t want you two getting caught up in my mistakes…”_

_“Hey, the minute you said ‘Yes’ that night, I got involved for better or worse, richer or poorer, remember?” her husband chastised her, voice loving but unyielding as he tilted her face up with one calloused hand to lock their eyes together. “We’re a family, angel, and family means that no one gets left behind.”_

_Caught between wanting to roll her eyes at the corniness and Disney quotes and melting from the love she felt for him, she opted to take the middle ground and kiss him firmly. A kiss that soon deepened and things were_ just _beginning to get interesting when twin groans of disgust echoed. The two adults looked over to see a pair of theatrically gagging eleven year olds._

 _“So_ gross _, you guys! Can’t you keep the icky stuff where I can’t see it?” Taylor whined plaintively, getting laughter and assurances from both her parents that she ‘would understand someday’. “Ugh, as if! Boys are super gross. C’mon Ems, lets go to my room before they start again.”_

_The two pre-teens fled to their ‘sanctuary’ to the vast amusement of the adults in the room, who returned to their cuddling with soft laughter in their throats. After an hour of gentle kisses and sweet nothings murmured lowly, Danny headed out for a night shift and Anette started to prepare dinner._

_Despite her husband’s words, she knew what she would do if she ever thought her family might be in danger: draw the enemy away and annihilate them…or die trying. She would be truly Damned before she would let others harm those that she loved, especially if the only aim was to cause her pain through their suffering. A tactic that her (hopefully_ very _distant) enemies were fond of using in their petty and arrogant cruelty. It was as pathetic as it was dishonorable, hardly befitting such_ ancient _and_ illustrious _people._

 _She resisted the urge to spit on the ground in utter disgust at the very thought of ‘those people.’ She might not be the Patron Saint of Pure Souls, far from it as a matter of fact, but she was a veritable_ Archangel _compared to those hunting her. Fortunately, they thus far didn’t seem to have any idea that she was no longer on her home Earth. Hell, she didn’t know if they were even aware that other versions of Earth existed! She herself had only discovered through pure happenstance!_

_Hearing giggles and squeals of laughter from her daughter’s room, she banished such thoughts from her mind and focused on the task at hand. There was little purpose in ruminating on the future, little enough cause to do so, and much to be gained from focusing on happier things, like her family and friends._

_########################################################################################_

_Annette Hebert snarled to herself in frustration as she weaved her way through the Brockton Bay suburbs with speed bordering on the illegal. Her normal grace and calm had evaporated not an hour ago, when she had called her family from the education convention at which she had spent the last three days. Taylor had snuck out of the house and gone flying for the first time ever _the night before, in spite promising never to do precisely that when her wings had fully formed a handful of months ago. The result of Annette chastising her in no small amount of fear (nightmarish visions of her daughter dying horribly filling her mind) had been Taylor virtually exploding in fury uncharacteristic without serious provocation. An argument had ensued, and for the first time in her life Annette felt she could understand what her friends and coworkers were talking about when they complained about their children’s poor attitudes and behaviors._  
  
_She was frustrated with herself, now, more than she was angry at Taylor. She knew how addicting, how joyful, flying could be and she had been_ born _with wings and the power of flight. For Taylor, it would be all the more alluring to take that first flight, to dance through the sky under her own power alone. Her fear, however, that her daughter would have an accident or be attacked had overwhelmed her. As a result, harsh words on both sides had been spoken, and now she was headed back to the city proper with far less restraint than was her normal wont._  
  
_Sighing to herself, she slowed to a more reasonable pace as she left the more open roads and drew closer to ‘civilization’. She didn’t want to hurt anyone simply because she was in a rush, and getting arrested for reckless endangerment or speeding or what have you would certainly ruin her chances of getting to her family any time soon._  
  
_…she supposed following the traffic laws was a good thing too._  
  
_A flash of Warning tingled through her body, and her head snapped around to see a truck barreling towards her, and her enhanced sight revealed the driver to her. A ravenette with scarlet streaks in her hair, face contorted in triumph and rage in equal measure. She knew that face, though she hadn’t seen it in years. Adrianna, one of Lustrum’s most fanatical followers, and one of those who had sworn revenge on Anette and her friends when they had left the feminist cape’s organization, despite that their departure had Lustrum’s seal of approval._  
  
_She tried to turn her car out of the way, but she knew that she wouldn’t make it. She was flatfooted and moving slower than her attacker, and Light spiraled around her as she tried to summon warding magics. Her eyes widened further in horror as her power slipped away. A ward, someone had put up a ward designed to prevent use of magic!_  
  
I love you! _Her heart, her soul, cried out to her distant loved ones in the final instant she had before the collision. Then the impact came, hurling her car (and her body) across the road. Pain consumed her senses, blackness encroaching on her vision. A flare of scarlet shone briefly just out of sight (or was that simply blood running down her face?) before the door was torn from the frame of the car and she was dragged bodily from its depths. A cruelly smirking face swam into view, framed by shaggy silver hair and with a dagger-like beard, and she gasped in protest and realization as chains curled around her before darkness consumed all in full._  
  
_When the police arrived, they would find two corpses, one in each vehicle, and a note of intent on Adrianna. Writing the situation off as a classic revenge-by-suicide event, the case was closed without investigation and the apparent victim’s family was informed._  
  
_Young Taylor, only thirteen years old, was now motherless. Her father was shattered, his soulmate stolen from him, but he knew that Taylor would need him now more than ever. She was young, volatile, and growing in power. She needed comfort and assurance, that she wasn’t to blame, that her mother had loved her, and that no matter how harsh an argument they might have had, Annette had known Taylor loved her._  
  
_###############################################_  
  
_A few days after the funeral, which was well-attended by friends of the family, students and colleagues of the deceased, and a scant handful of more random well-wishers, Taylor rose and shuffled to the door as a firm knock resounded. She opened it to find a UPS driver, looking suitably solemn, with a stack of large boxes on a dolley. Signing for them, and accepting his condolences (he must have been local, to know her mother had died), she opened the first box. Within was journals and three ring binders, all written by her mother, and a search of the other boxes revealed the same. All but one of them appeared to be just blank pages, but even with her nonexistent skills she could feel the magic on them. No, they were not empty, but their contents instead were carefully hidden._  
  
_Taking up the first , the only one that she could read, she tentatively opened it and began to read._  
  
My dearest daughter, if you’re reading this than I am gone. I’m sorry, so, so sorry to have left you and your father, but know I would never have done so if I had the choice. I loved you and your father more than life itself, little owl, but it is probably because of that love that I am gone.  
  
I have enemies, Taylor, ones ancient and powerful both. Ones that no one on Earth Bet could possibly begin to comprehend. I’m not from here, Taylor, but instead a world I have taken to calling Earth Trifecta. On that Earth, and I feel in all Earths, the beings described in the Bible are all too real. God, Lucifer, Devils and Demons…all real, with conflicts all too terrible.  
  
You and I, we’re Fallen Angels, called  _Grigori_  by the ancients. ‘The Watchers’, those who sought to safeguard mankind from its own stupidity, to protect it from Lucifer and his followers. It was this, however, that brought about our Fall in one way or another.  
  
Free Will was the ultimate decree of God for Mankind, more free even than we Angels, though we were by no means slaves. It was this Free Will that we intruded upon in our desire to control humans. Our cause was pure, we thought, ‘for their own good’, but it was Sinful nonetheless. We tried to take their Free Will, to guide them as we saw fit, and we were cast down for it. But He was merciful, in a way, for though we Fell we did not become as Lucifer did. We did not become Devils, Monsters in the Darkness. We were Angels still, though our wings became black and Heaven was closed to us.  
  
The other Angels, our brothers and sisters, did not see it this way. War broke out between Angels, Fallen, and Devils. All three sides fighting in a chaotic mess that nearly annihilated mankind, helpless as they were in the midst of our battlefields. Finally, through great bloodshed, an uneasy peace was achieved. A peace that, so far as I know, stands still to this day.  
  
There are those working against it however, and I and my comrades worked against them in turn. I am hated by these would-be war-mongers, and I have little doubt that I am gone because they found me…but they will not find you. I made sure of that.  
  
Train, Taylor, follow my journals to control and enhance your strength and, when the time comes, bring true peace to your home and mine both. You are special, Taylor, half human and half angel. The strengths, and weaknesses, of both. The heart of both. You’ll change the world, little owl, I promise you that.  
  
Love, your mother  
  
_Sniffling in emotion, Taylor hugged the journal to her chest. She had been raised in Faith, as many were to one degree or another in the Western World, so some of her mother’s revelations were not so colossal as they might be to others. Even the knowledge of her true nature was not earth-shaking, not really. She could certainly see her mother risking everything for the sake of others, and making enemies because of it. She had done that here as well, and it had killed her._  
  
_In truth, it would hit her somewhat harder soon enough, but in that moment a fierce desire was born within her soul. A desire to do as her mother bid, to become as powerful as she could and to protect the innocents of humanity, just like her mother had. Brushing away her tears, she squared her jaw mulishly and leafed through the journal to the first page of training. She would dedicate every moment that she had to mastering these books, to do her mother proud._  
  
_Never once did it occur to her that her mother wouldn’t have wanted her to obsess over training. Never once did it occur to her that moderation was, in fact, key. In time, it would be a lesson learned, but not for nearly two years.__  
################################  
  
**Now, I want to say something here before I start typing up our first real chapter: I know some of you might dislike a few of the cliches here, especially the whole 'left behind a letter' thing, but Annette as she is portrayed in this story, being hunted like she is, would have things in place for if/when they caught up with her. In case it wasn't clear, Annette isn't dead, but abducted by a certain ancient enemy. This will be the primary cause of future crossings between the two dimensions.**


	2. Chapter One

The Lord’s Port had once been one of the most prominent shipyards and trading ports on the East Coast of the United States. Since before the nation had even been officially formed, Brockton’s Bay (named for the city’s founder, Lord Johnathon Brockton) had been a wealthy and well-kept city. At one point, despite being smaller in both footprint and population, it had been called ‘The Jewel of the East’ and considered a rival for New York itself.

Hundreds of ships, built and crewed by Brocktonites, had fought in every conflict from that of Independence all the way through to Vietnam. If Earth Aleph’s Gulf War had occurred on here on Earth Bet, they would have fought there too. It was a city of prosperity, of progress. It was a city that had stridden towards the future with confidence and grace, its people proud and moral. Even the advent of the parahuman phenomenon had done little to stagger them for long.

Then, the Endbringers had come. Oh, none had attacked the city itself directly, thus far anyway, but the actions of Leviathan had been nothing short of devastating to international trade. Only the most powerful of nations still did so, and only with heavy guard forces deployed along the routes of travel. With its token Protectorate presence and the powerful gangs within, Brockton Bay could not guarantee any cargo delivered to the city would be defended from villains. So, ‘The Jewel’ was tarnished, left to rot away and become a haven of suffering and crime.

The once-bustling port was shut down and abandoned piece by piece as funds were exhausted or ‘lost’, and countless ships had been abandoned by their owners and crews to create The Ship’s Graveyard, an eyesore of great proportions. Now, with only a handful of the port’s former square-mileage still active, far less inspiring elements were wont to inhabit the decaying warehouses. Yet not only those who favored crime hid there.

Hidden within the rusting core of a cargo ship, in the deepest depths of the most central hold, something altogether different was occurring. Spiraling light of gold and silver danced through the salty air and formed complex designs of heart-stopping beauty. Animals cavorted and danced, plants blossomed and bloomed, and great sailing ships drifted glittering seas.

Amidst it all stood fourteen year old Taylor Hebert, eyebrows furrowed in concentration and hands alight with the energies she was commanding. In the time since her mother had been killed and the truth of her heritage had been revealed to her, every waking moment had been spent entirely on honing the skills of her bloodline. Crude Light constructs and playground spells had been easy enough, instinctual really. She probably could have gone out and beaten any gang-banger in the city like that, but she wasn’t stupid enough to pick fights alone as someone with her young age at the time. So, with the guidance of her mother’s notes, she had begun to intensify and expand her training regimen.

Healing, warding, far-sight, and Light-constructs were the primary foci of her efforts, though she put a great deal of effort into staying in shape as well. Granted, it was hardly a difficult task to keep her body as such, but it was the principle of the matter. Being a Nephilem made it virtually impossible for her to be anything but healthy, and despite her youth she (along with Emma, as it happened) was already receiving modelling requests from youth agencies. Thus far, she and her father had always refused to entertain such offers, despite the potential for wealth. She was going to continue having rapid physical changes until she turned sixteen, when it would slow drastically and eventually leave her perpetually at age 21, unless she chose otherwise. Which she wouldn’t.

There were certainly worse fates, especially since (as a half Fallen Angel) she would certainly qualify as inhumanly beautiful. Fallen Angels, or at least those not part of the original Grigori, had Fallen mostly for earthly desires. That was as much a part of her as the little light show she was putting on at the moment. That being said, she had no desire to pop into bed with anyone for the time being, thank you _very_ much, and she preferred to ignore that truth of her heritage with impressive determination.

The beeping of her watch’s alarm drew her attention from her Light, and an absent flick of her fingers banished the coalesced power as she looked at her wrist and sighed in disappointment. It was time for her to be heading home, as by her father’s decree she was to be in bed by ten ever during these waning weeks of summer vacation. He didn’t care that she could probably go sleepless for days without feeling any ill effects. His daughter was going to be in bed by a reasonable hour, and she had better not even think about sneaking out! He had been married to a mischievous Fallen, and he was on to their tricks!

Carefully making her way through the corridors of her practice zone with the practiced speed and grace of a route well traveled, Taylor soon found herself standing on the deck of the rotting ship. A whispered spell confirmed for her that there was not a soul around, and she grinned eagerly as she manifested her wings. Despite being as darkly feathered as a raven’s, they were by all other appearances the very image Mankind had envisioned as the wings of an angel. Large, graceful, streamlined, and delicately curved as they lay carefully folded on her back. Spreading them wide, she leapt skyward with glee in her heart. _This_ was true freedom. _This_ was a sensation that she lived for.

The magic, the healing, the looks…they were all fantastic perks of being what she was, but in her opinion being able to fly under her own power was the ultimate prize of her bloodline. Up here, in the sky with the wind and the stars surrounding her, she was separated from the world below and all of its problems. A brief freedom, perhaps, but an intoxicating one nonetheless. And brief it was, for her home had never been far from the docklands that were her father’s damascene in the first place. At the pace which she could keep whilst aloft, which was significant even when trying to slow and enjoy the trip, it would take only a scant handful of minutes to traverse the distance.

Though only a few hundred feet in the air, the city below her looked so… _small_. At this hour, so long after the sun (and the relative safety that its’ shining gaze brought) had vanished below the horizon, the streets were scarcely populated. There was little that could entice decent folk into forsaking the thin protection of their doors and walls, little to encourage them to venture out into the night that was ruled by the gangs who moved about unchallenged. Oh, how that knowledge _burned_ , how recognizing the disparity of morality within her home rankled like nothing else! She loved Brockton Bay and its people with all her heart, and she _hated_ how little those in positions of power could, or would, do to help the city that they had sworn an oath to.

She shook her head with a soft, somewhat bitter laugh, reflecting not for the first time on how much she had changed since her mother had died. Oh, she had always been a _fairly_ serious child, if motor-mouthed, when she was younger. Her parents had made sure that she grew up prepared for her future, even if she hadn’t known or understood at the time, but she knew that she had changed. The truth being revealed and her decision to become the mightiest hero in history had only reinforced those traits.

Rolling over to glide with her back to the ground (something only possible due to magic absently weaved around her), she turned her gaze to the stars. From darkness to light, from the past towards the future. She smiled softly as her mother’s voice whispered in her mind, a favorite quote that she had long ago memorized: _Shoot for the moon, little owl. Even if you can’t reach it, you can still land amongst the stars._ She might not succeed in everything she tried to do in her life, but that wasn’t going to stop her from trying with every fiber of her being. To do otherwise would be to fail without trying, and she refused to do that! How could she, when her mother’s final wish and final actions in this world had been to beg her to save it and given her the tools to do so? How could she someday look her mother in the eye and admit to such shame, simply because the task seemed to be difficult? She couldn’t, and she _wouldn’t._ She had made that promise a long time ago, and she fully intended to keep it.

Reaching out with sense beyond those of the physical realm, she latched onto the glimmering light that was her father’s soul, banking towards it as she righted herself in the air. Granted, she didn’t _need_ to use him as a guiding beacon to find her own house, but doing things this way served more than one purpose. Not the least of which was that the ‘taste’ of someone’s soul could tell her a great deal about that person. Their mental and emotional state, for example, would affect the strength of their soul noticeably. Tonight, as with any other night he waited for her, tendrils of concerns laced the devotion and love that was the core of his being.

It took only moments to arrive from there, back-winging to break her momentum as she touched down in her backyard. Giving her wings one last stretch, even going so far as to preen a bit, she curled them back into herself with profound regret. While it was purely mental, not having her wings out always made them feel so _cramped_ when she next released them. It was, funnily enough, not a sensation that she was overly fond of experiencing. Glancing around with both mortal and magical means, she satisfied herself that no one had laid eyes upon her during her arrival and headed inside.

                “Hit the shower, then its to bed with you. It’s late enough as it is.” Her father told her almost immediately, having been waiting just past the door for her to enter. Huffing at him in teenaged irritation, she slipped past and padded upstairs, stripping and dumping her clothes in the bin just outside the bathroom door. Turning on the water in the bath, she gave it time to warm before stepping in and swapping it over to shower. A heartfelt sigh of pleasure worked its way out of her chest as the warmth sank into her bones, a sensation she indulged in for several minutes before she set to work actually cleaning herself. While practicing magic could hardly make her sweaty like physical exercise could, a hot shower was non-the-less soothing and peaceful. A perfect way to end the day, that was for sure.

Half an hour later, she was ensconced in her pajamas and hugging her father goodnight. He would likely be up for a few hours yet, doing paperwork and such things, and she lamented to herself once again how hard he had to work to keep the DWA from collapsing into chaos or gang-hood. Hopefully she would find someway to turn things around for them once she was a hero, it was the very least she could do for the men and women who had stuck by her father through thick and thin for so many years. Those who had remained loyal to him personally, those who counted themselves friend or even family to the Director of Hiring and de-facto Boss.

Crawling into bed and curling up under the covers, she again turned her mind’s efforts to her powers. While she could hardly perform grand-scale acts of the past few hours here within her room, she could instead focus on those aspects invisible to the naked eye. Mental acuity and precognition. Not her strongest field by a long shot, and thus far from reliable (especially when compared to powerful and experienced Thinkers), even partial glimpses of the future paths before her could prove imminently useful, and hopefully dedicated practice would increase her proficiency enough to reach her ultimate goal for the field: battlefield precognition.

To see the moves and strikes of an enemy before they were made, to know where and when she herself would strike. It would not replace trained skills in the arts of physical combat and a heavy dose of luck, but against the kind of men and women she would inevitably do battle with it was sure to be beneficial. Even with her heritage, even with the breakneck pace she had forced herself to keep, there were still titans in the world. Still individuals and beings that dwarfed her in power and experience. Moord Nag, Ash Beast, The Nine, Heartbreaker, and more besides. Never mind the God-damned Endbringers! Oh, she would outstrip all of them eventually, but that could take far to long for there to still be a world to save! No, best to train in whatever methods could tip the balance in her favor by any measurement.

Evening her breathing, she gently reached into herself to find that font of power at the core of her soul, drawing forth a small but strong and steady stream of energy. Farsight was not an art to approach with pure force, but rather dexterity and control. Two traits that she was still lacking in despite the intricacies of her earlier display. Macro-control and micro-control were vastly different in effort and methodology, she had quickly found. Casting out her power as a fisherman would his line, she waited patiently for the tell-tale tug before following the thread to what it had found. In an instant, she was no longer in bed.

It was a happy image, this potential future. One of her father in their living room, laughing more freely than she had seen since her mother had been killed. With him were two women, smiling warmly at his joy, each holding one of his hands. One clearly had dusky skin and almond eyes, while the other had brown hair and eyes and was rather paler than her female companion. The image faded away, the thread dissipating and returning to her core, and she found herself frowning lightly as she considered what she had just seen. This was, of course, only a possible future, and barely a glimpse of one at that. Hardly reliable, but the fact that it had so quickly answered the call of her power indicated that it was significant and probable. The problem was, of course, that she had no idea how it might come to pass. She had no problem with her father finding love again, she was mature enough to know that it was what her mother would have wanted. Hell, _she_ wouldn’t mind him being so happy again! If her mother wasn’t able to do it for him, then he was more than free to find someone who could, even if part of her wanted to selfishly hog all of his attentions.

It wasn’t as if she could go out one day and find these two women and bring them home to her father! It would be terribly awkward to explain, for one thing, and forcing it would probably destroy the happy future she had foreseen. If only she had more control, then she could scry these women more directly! But scrying individual people, especially strangers, wasn’t something the notes she had unlocked thus far went into any detail about. In fact, all her mother had told her so far was that she shouldn’t even try yet!

Grumbling to herself in frustration, Taylor allowed her self to relax and drift off to sleep.

###########################################

Daniel ‘Danny’ Hebert, Head of Hiring and de-facto Director of the Dockworker’s Association, sighed heavily with an exhaustion that had very little to do with either the hour or the pile of paperwork he was resolutely working his way through. No, it instead was an exhaustion centered around his daughter.

Ever since her mother had died, she had changed rather significantly. Oh, she still had a tendency to motormouth on occasion, still fiercely loved both knowledge and people, but now she existed in a constant state of training. She was _obsessed_ with becoming more powerful, and if it wasn’t for her reasons in doing so he would be terrified that she was taking after the worst examples of Annette’s race. Regardless, she was pushing people away without realizing it, Emma in particular. No less than a dozen times in the last two months, Alan had come to him with concerns on his family’s behalf about Taylor’s mental and emotional health.

Obviously, he couldn’t tell them the truth of what was going on, which led to extremely thin and transparent excuses that had begun to strain friendships all around. He would have to do something about that soon, because he really rather doubted that Taylor had even the slightest hint of what was occurring, so focused was she on her goal. She probably didn’t even realize that she hadn’t hung out with Emma outside of school in weeks, and he didn’t doubt that she appeared to be somewhat out of it when they _were_ together.

 _Ah, Annette, what would you do or say right now?_ He mused longingly, kneading his forehead. His wife had always been better about talking to Taylor, had always known just what to say to the strong-willed girl. If nothing else, she would have known more about being a Fallen Angel than he did, and could have guided and reined in Taylor’s insane work ethic far better than he could. _But,_ he suddenly thought to himself, _she isn’t the only one who knows how to keep a handle on Taylor._

He couldn’t try and force her not to train, he knew that. Trying to forbid her from becoming a hero like her mother had encouraged her to be? All that would do was escalate the situation and breed resentment. The best chance he had of persuading her to live a more healthy lifestyle would be to point out how hurt and worried Emma was for her, and Taylor would partially cave. She would end up telling Emma everything, and Emma would put her foot down and insist on being Taylor’s damage control. Any resistance Taylor had to that would cave when Emma voiced her fears aloud, and the situation would be resolved handily.

He considered asking Emma to convince Taylor to join the Wards, but discarded the notion promptly thereafter. Neither living Hebert was known for effusive praise of the PRT ENE branch (despite acknowledging all the issues it faced, such as its miniscule hero-to-villain ratio), and there was a virtual certainty that they would eventually recognize the similarities between Taylor’s abilities and those displayed by a former Lustrum lieutenant and Independent Vigilante. Being discovered as the daughter of a former pseudo-villain would hardly create a welcoming work environment, and as Taylor got stronger her life would become even more restrictive and monitored. No, that way lay disaster.

Much as he disliked the idea on the instinctual level, he knew that soon enough his only child would be out and about hunting criminals of the dangerous sort. The only reassuring factor of it all was the fact that Taylor literally wasn’t human, and as such was a great deal safer than nearly anyone in the city. Stronger, faster, and more durable than any ‘normal’ could dream of being (and on par with most capes as she was), it would take dedicated effort and significant firepower to hurt her, and she was smart enough not to hold still for anyone who _was_ powerful enough to be a threat.

 _Maybe I should get Emma some help. I know Annette had a few friends from the old days living in the area, maybe some of them have kids Taylor’s age._ His expression of tired stress morphed into one of thoughtful contemplation as he considered it. _She could always use more friends, even if she never tells them the truth about herself. And if she_ does _tell them the truth, they can certainly work to keep her safe in ‘civilian’ times._

A plan forming swiftly in his mind, he attacked his remaining paperwork with renewed vigor, intent on dispensing his fatherly duties come morning, whether his daughter liked it or not.

###############################################################

                “Emma will be over this afternoon for a sleepover, and another girl as well.” Her father decreed bluntly as Taylor sat down for breakfast the next morning, ignoring the shocked and annoyed look she gave him in response. “Her mom, and a few other people my age, will be visiting for the afternoon. They’re old friends of mine or your mom’s from collage, so I thought I would introduce you.”

                “A playdate, Dad. _Really_? I don’t have time for that kind of stuff anymore, and I’m _fifteen years old!_ ” she started to protest, but he uncharacteristically spoke right over her, unmoved by her still-born complaints.

                “This isn’t negotiable, Taylor! I’ve let you spend six plus hours a day training for the last year because of your dedication to being a hero and honoring your mother. I know it helps you feel closer to her, like she’s still here.” Taylor’s breath caught in her chest at that. She had never said it aloud, but perhaps it shouldn’t have surprised her that he knew anyway. He was hardly a stupid person, and parents often seemed to know things about their children that had never been said aloud. “Did you know Emma has been having _nightmares_ over the last couple of months because she thinks you’re suicidal? Alan told me she looked stuff up on the internet and thinks you match all the signs. You’ve not spent any quality time with her, or anyone else for that matter, in _far_ to long to be healthy. I’m putting my foot _down_.”

Taylor paled and blanched terribly, looking suitably horrified by these revelations, and a part of Danny felt darkly vindicated. Maybe now she would realize just how much pain she had been causing those around her. Sure, he worked long hours and wasn’t exactly known for his socialization prowess (especially since his angel had died), but he hadn’t shut anyone out as totally as Taylor had.

For Taylor, the knowledge that she had caused such pain in her dearest friend was agonizing. She _hated_ it when the people she loved were sad or unhappy, and she _loathed_ being the cause of said pains. Her mind raced as she reviewed the last few weeks, and grimaced in disgust as she realized she hadn’t spent time with Emma outside of school in…well, quite a while. They had barely hung out since summer vacation had started, although staying home from camp had meant they hung out a few days all in a row. She hadn’t thought about it before, in hindsight it was obvious that Emma would fear the worst. Without the requisite knowledge of Taylor’s true nature, and thus her training regimen, the redhead had been left with only her imagination and the internet to guide her. Obviously not the best combination for calming oneself down when one is worried. She had been so focused on gaining power to protect those that she cared for, that she had been the one hurting them instead! An anathema, the exact opposite of her purpose!

A part of her thought that Emma really ought to know her better than to assume she was suicidal, but then again (from the various forms of media she herself had seen featuring depression or suicidal individuals) the assumption wasn’t _too_ outlandish. Her personality, as far as Emma could tell, had changed drastically. More reclusive, always quiet or withdrawn, absent-minded, secretive…yes, she could see how all of that could paint a far-from-pretty picture for someone. Never mind Emma, who was blessed with a creative mind and cursed with an over-active imagination.

                “Fine, how many people are we talking about, and is it just the two for the sleepover?” she conceded with a sigh, not entirely disappointed to spend some time with Emma. Even if it did cut into her training for a couple of days. Hmm, maybe she really was overdoing it, if she was adding grudging comments like that to her own thoughts…

                “Just the two girls, their parents, and three or four other adults. I expect you to be a polite and gracious hostess for at least a little while down here, but then you kids can head up to your room or go for a walk. Something _other_ than training.” He replied, and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Of course, she was going to be polite, they had raised her better than to ignore or be rude to guests. The idea of meeting another girl her age was intriguing, however, despite her nervousness.

She had never needed anyone other then Emma in her life. She had never felt it was necessary to expand her circle of friends, never felt that the youngest Barnes was insufficient company. Still, it probably couldn’t hurt to have more friends. It wasn’t like she would care about Emma any less, after all! _Nothing_ could make her do that!

                “I suppose I should go neaten up my room then. Do some training too, while I can.” She said finally, only to stop as he grabbed her arm gently.

                “No training today, Taylor, I mean it. Deal with your room and read a book or something, but _no training_. Alright?” this was said more in a pleading tone than a commanding one, and she sighed again gustily before nodding in acquiescence. Her Dad didn’t ask much of her nowadays, and she had already decided taking some time off from training would be okay…

Trudging up to her room, she reflected that it wasn’t _all_ bad. She would have to get used to a new schedule anyway, what with their upcoming freshman year of high school. Her vacation had passed swiftly, it seemed, something that she found she didn’t appreciate anymore now than she did when she was younger. Of course, back then she wanted an eternal summer to play with Emma, and now she wanted it so that she could training and become a hero. Despite the change, however, she was sure she would have plenty of time outside of school to focus on what was really important. Winslow High, her choice of schools, was more known for gangs than it was academic excellence. Oh, it was fully accredited and all that, but compared to Arcadia and Immaculata it was assuredly _not_ the horse to bet on in a competition.

She could have gone to either of those other schools, even skipped a grade if she wanted too, and a part of her had been immensely tempted. Arcadia had been tempting just to see if she could meet and befriend people who turned out to be Wards, but that would have meant leaving Emma behind in Winslow by herself. Immaculata, on the other hand, had been tempting for far less pure reasons (if attending a school just to be friends with the local teen heroes called be ‘pure’). She was a Fallen Angel, and though her mother’s generation of Fallen had done so for rather more noble reasons than those that followed them in later generations, she was still _Fallen_. The idea of going to a Catholic, girls-only school and corrupting them had been put forth by a darker, lustier portion of her mind. As always when such things happened, Taylor told her hormone-fueled Fallen side to shut up and get back in its corner where it belonged. She was to young for that kind of thing, damnit, and she was trying to emphasize the _Angel_ rather than the _Fallen_ part of her heritage.

It wasn’t easy. It helped that she appeased it by thinking that tutoring Emma to the level where they could both transfer to Immaculata next year seemed like a good idea, just to get out of Winslow.

Looking around her room, she considered what might or might not need to be hidden away before her guests arrived. Most of the doodles she had done could stay, she imagined most people doodled angels at one point or another. She didn’t doubt that people doodled angels beating the crap out of the major villains of the world too. Her mother’s journals would need to be secured, because while she didn’t know if anyone besides herself could read them, having an enormous library of blank but clearly used notebooks and binders was suspicious. She would need to vacuum, too, because (camping cots or not) she didn’t want guests sleeping on a floor that was anything but spotless. Speaking of the camping cots, she would have to pull them out of the basement and let them air out for a few hours. They likely were a bit musty after being left in their boxes for so long.

Several hours (and a hot shower) later, a nervous Taylor was awaiting the arrival she both dreaded and anticipated. Her father, despite his ambush of socialization, had at least had the foresight to invite the Barnes family to arrive some fifteen minutes before the other guests. Plenty of time for Taylor to explain herself to her sister. The problem was, she didn’t know exactly what to say. She didn’t want to _lie_ to Emma, especially not after having ignored her for so long, but she wasn’t sure it was a good idea to tell her everything immediately either. Fears of putting Emma in danger aside, she wasn’t willing to bet on Emma’s ability to act natural in front of strangers if she found out _her best friend was half-Angel_. As such, the best plan was probably to tell her a partial truth: that she had been studying to tutor Emma out of Winslow for their sophomore year.

A knock on the door had her attention drawn out of herself, and she took a steadying breath as it opened to reveal the object of her contemplations standing there with her parents. Curtly greeting her father, Emma swept into the building and grabbed her by one arm, half-dragging her towards the stairs. A somewhat pleading look to her father was utterly ignored as he abandoned her to her fate: Death By Lecture.

                “Alright, start talking, and it had damn well better be good. No bullshit, no lying, got it?” the redhead growled out as soon as Taylor’s bedroom door shut behind them, eyes smoldering with anger and disappointment well-contained. An expression and tone that she had never before directed at Taylor, who found that she rather wished that was still the case. It hurt more than she had expected to face such a thing from Emma, and the idea of lying was fully removed from her mind. She owed Emma more than that.

                “I’m sorry, Ems. I never meant to hurt you like this, I promise you that. I’ve been so busy with other things that I didn’t realize how much time had passed or how much I was neglecting you. I can’t apologize enough, but I promise to try and avoid ever doing it again.” Taylor ducked her head a little in contrition, every syllable seeping with sincerity, and Emma eyed her unhappily before nodding in acceptance.

                “That’s a start, but if you think I’ll forgive you without an explanation, you’ve got another thing coming. You scared the hell out of me, Taylor!”

                “I know, and I wish I could tell you everything right now, but I can’t.” Taylor sighed, before holding up her hands in supplication as Emma’s gaze sharpened and her mouth opened, doubtless to let her know just what she thought about _that_ particular statement. “I really can’t, it’s a long story and one that needs _privacy_. What I can tell you is that, amongst the other things, I’ve been studying to try and tutor you so we can test out of Winslow at the end of the year.”

                “Fine, fine.” This partial explanation seemed to mollify Emma, who at least understood that Taylor was being genuine about the seriousness of the situation, and a moment later the two girls were hugging tightly with damp eyes. “This story of yours had better be good, or you’re gonna get it.

Taylor laughed softly, pulling away from the hug and handing her a tissue to clean herself up with, getting a small but grateful smile in response. The next few minutes were spent sitting closely to one another and chatting quietly about any number of subjects, not the least of which that Emma was greatly interested in being a student at Winslow for the shortest time frame possible. Hardly surprising, of course, given the school’s reputation.

                “So, what do you know about this new girl that your dad wants us to meet?” Emma asked finally, as they got up and started to head downstairs again. “I mean, do we know anything about her?”

                “Nope, just that her mom was friends with my parents and he wants me to meet her. I mean, I guess it could be worse. I don’t have any issues with more friends, even if I don’t _need_ them. After all, I’ve got you.” Taylor shrugged lazily, utterly unaware of how her words could be taken for the uninformed. Fortunately, both she and Emma knew that neither of them would ever see the other as anything but a sibling. They had been sisters their whole lives, and _obviously_ nothing could ever change that.

It didn’t take long for the subject of their curiosity to arrive with who could only be her mother. The relation between them was clear, they could even have been twins as they had the same long, straight chocolate brown hair and slim builds. The elder of the two joined the adults while the younger forged a direct path to the other two teens, a warm and welcoming smile on her face.

                “My name’s Charlotte, please to meet you! My mom has told me all about you! I’m sure we’ll get along great!” she told Taylor cheerfully, shaking the disguised Nephilem’s hand with both of her own, before turning to Emma and doing the same with her. “You must be Emma! Nice to meet you as well! I hope we can be friends!”

                “Do right by us and I can guarantee it.” There was a hint of warning in Emma’s tone, though the genuine smile took the edge off of it, and Charlotte scoffed and waved one hand as if to dismiss the very idea of doing otherwise. Taylor couldn’t help but wonder if this was what she was like during her more… _energetic_ moments when she was younger. She now had a profound respect for the difficulties Emma had gone through. “C’mon, let’s head upstairs and ditch the circle of ancients over there.”

Giggling in amusement, the trio headed upstairs and into Taylor’s room, wherein they began to get to know one another. Emma and Taylor regaled Charlotte with more than a few stories of their exploits, and Charlotte explained how her mom had met Annette. Apparently, a jock had been annoying a thoroughly uninterested Claire (Charlotte’s mother) when Annette had put her foot into his groin from behind with devastating force. This had, obviously, made quite the impression on Claire (and one of an entirely different kind on the jock too, Charlotte added with a cackle) and they had ended up swapping room mates to get into the same room together. They had, apparently, been inseparable after that, at least until graduation. Then life had taken them different ways, even if they still talked on the phone or via email.

As the conversation grew longer, however, Taylor found herself growing uncomfortable and suspicious. Charlotte was endlessly making small comments here and there, ones that seemed innocuous or innocent but seemed to have a deeper meaning behind them. References to flying, capes, angels…anything that seemed connected to Taylor’s heritage was thrown in whenever possible. The tension continued to grow before Emma finally caught on.

                “Alright, what’s going on between you two? We were having a good time, and now it looks like you guys are spending more time staring into one another’s eyes than you are talking. Do you need some privacy, or what?” she groused, only half teasing, and found herself immensely amused when the dup squawked denials and blushed in unison, averting their gazes from one another for the first time in nearly an hour. “Now, seriously, what’s going on?”

                “Taylor is worried that I’m a threat, that I know to much about her and her mom, about who and what they really are.” Charlotte responded, suddenly dead serious rather than jocular. The abrupt shift in mood seemed to shock Emma, and she glanced over at Taylor only to recoil in shock. There was an aura of power, even _malice_ that clung to her like a cloak. Her eyes held a faint glow of Light, and golden sparks of lightning crawled between the fingers of one hand as she veritably glared at the interloper.

                **“Measure your next words carefully. I am not prone to rash action, but in a moment such as this I might forget myself.”** The oddly formal words were delivered with a voice that held the slightest hint of an echo, and Charlotte paled slightly before spreading her hands in a submissive, disarmed gesture.

                “Maybe I shouldn’t have teased you so much, but I’ve been looking forward to this moment for a long time. I wasn’t lying when I said that our moms did everything together, Taylor. When your mom started running as an independent vigilante, my mom was the one who waited up at night for her to come home. She knew that there was a chance someone from her past might catch up to her, and she didn’t want you to abandon everything in an effort to become a hero. Simply put, me and my mom were supposed to be your support base.”

                “Why now, why appear now, two years after my mother died? Why weren’t you here then, if you had this _divine mission_ to help me.” Taylor’s voice, while no longer thrumming with power, was still agitated and biting, and Charlotte scowled darkly.

                “Because you don’t have a monopoly on bad shit happening, Taylor.” She snapped back, now slightly angry. “You wanna know why we weren’t here? Cause my douchebag PRT officer of a dad fucking bailed on us in New York! My mom had to work three jobs and take classes online to get a job back in the Bay! You…”

                “Enough, both of you!” Emma snapped as Taylor seemed to swell with indignation, cutting off the argument before it could really get off the ground. “You’re both being idiots! I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but you’re damn well going to explain it to me and not be bitches to one another!”

Looking suitably chastised, the duo explained the situation. Emma listened in mingled awe and disbelief as she was informed that not only was Taylor not fully human, but that she was _half Angel_. A Fallen Angel, maybe, but still! And Aunty Annette had been a full-blood, from _a whole other world_. Sure, she knew that other Earth’s existed, like Earth Aleph, but to know that she had actually met someone from one was shocking enough without considering _anything_ else. Taylor had been quick to assure her that this was ‘the long story’ she had mentioned earlier, and the fact that the ravenette had been no-lifing training to be a superhero was utterly unsurprising.

With tempers cooled by the explanation, apologies were exchanged and an agreement to speak more in the morning when fully rested. There was, after all, no rush that justified pulling an all-nighter. Although, admittedly, it took all three of them no small amount of time to drift off to sleep, minds to full of revelations and their consequences to make it particularly easy.

#################################################################

 


	3. Chapter Two

Morning came swiftly for the three girls, and Emma had to calm Taylor again when she began to barrage their new…friend? with questions unending. A night’s sleep to come to terms with the revelations of yesterday seemed to have had anger pushed completely off of the field by overwhelmingly desperate curiosity. Once given room to breath, Charlotte explained that she had told them most of what she knew, and that her mother would tell all of them more at Annette’s hideout. It had, quite obviously, been an easy decision to eat a hasty breakfast and wait for a bus that was heading in the right direction.

The ride passed in relative silence, as Taylor was too excited, and nervous, to speak for fear that her voice would be to loud to ensure privacy. Likewise, Emma and Charlotte were content to measure the ravenette’s well-being during the trip. The night before had been rather hard on all of them, with revelations spawning heightened emotions all around, but time seemed to have restored and ensured civility. A fortunate thing, as it allowed Emma to think about the flood of information that she had received the night before. Information that had upset the world as she knew it, and she had a peculiar feeling that there was more yet to come. It didn’t matter, though, because no matter what idiotic arguments Taylor tried, Emma would be side by side with her no matter what. That’s what sisters did for one another.

Charlotte, for her part, was feeling somewhat disillusioned. She had been told stories for most of her life about Annette Hebert (aka Uaibhreach) and the power she had wielded, and had inferred that Taylor Hebert would be just as incredible. Instead, she had found what was, by all appearances, an utterly normal human girl. One that was beautiful on a level that would shame professional models far older than she, perhaps, but still a normal human girl. It had actually caused a feeling of profound disappointment at first, though she had hidden it well, before she could tamp the emotion down. She had felt a little guilty, afterwards, because of course Taylor seemed normal. The fact that she was only half-Angel would in and of itself have caused some differences between mother and daughter, and it wasn’t as though Taylor had been raised in Heaven. No, she had been raised as a human child would be here on Earth, and Charlotte was sure that was intentional. Perhaps it was meant to keep Taylor from becoming arrogant in her power, petty and cruel by believing herself ‘above’ normal humans. That seemed to make the most sense to her, and it had certainly worked if that _had_ been the intent. Taylor was kind, generous, and forgiving. Most Fallen, according to the admittedly biased and flawed accounts of the three Abrahamic religions, were vengeful and vicious. If Taylor had been anything like her distant kin, she probably would have simply killed Charlotte in anger rather than just snapping at her verbally.

Half an hour after leaving Taylor’s house, the trio had arrived at Charlotte’s own home on the edge of the decaying industrial district. The neighboring section of town to the South-West of the docks, the great foundries of Brockton Bay had made everything from nails to battleship-grade armor plating. When the docks had collapsed, so too had the industrial sector, as it had come to lack both the contracts and influx of raw materials necessary to be worth maintaining. Another rotting representation of just how fall the city had fallen, even if its abandoned nature meant it was ideal for Annette’s (and now their own) purposes.

Charlotte led the way up the stairs to her front door, knocking once before opening it an announcing their presence to the house at large. A heartbeat later, and her mother had appeared in the hallway before them, wearing an apron and a warm smile whilst accompanied by the smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies.

               “Welcome home, Charlotte, and welcome _to_ my home Emma and Taylor.” She greeted them cheerfully, receiving a polite but genuine ‘thank you’ from the two guests. “Why don’t you two have a seat on the couch in the living room. I think it would be best for us to be comfortable while we talk, don’t you? Charlotte, come along.”

Taylor and Emma did as they had been bid, heading into the living room and sitting down on the worn but extremely comfortable couch with no small amount of trepidation. Ms. Aronin (for that was her maiden name) clearly ran a tight ship, because the house was spotless despite the rather less-so nature of its surroundings. She was also a damn fine baker, because the cookies and milk she and Charlotte deposited on the coffee table when they entered the room were delicious.

               “So, I suppose I should tell you everything from the beginning.” The eldest woman in the room finally said, when the last cookie was nothing but a pinch of crumbs left behind on the plate. She immediately became the center of attention, and she smiled slightly at the intensity of Taylor’s eyes. In that moment, she could not have looked more like her mother had she tried, and a part of Claire’s heart ached deeply at the reminder of her lost friend. “As I’m sure Charlotte told you, Annette and I met in our freshman year of college when she dealt with a jock that was being…rather unchivalrous, shall we say. Once we got our room assignments, we convinced our roommates to switch so that we could be in the same room. A month later we were sleeping together.”

The nonchalant way she said it, the way one sentence flowed into another, and the sheer unexpectedness of the confession caught Taylor and Emma so off guard that they couldn’t quite comprehend the words immediately. They glanced at Charlotte in confusion, only to see her blushing brightly and bobbing her head in agreement. Then their eyes turned to one another and began to widen, and it was Taylor who voiced what they were thinking.

               “WHAT?”

               “Volume, young lady.” Claire chided her with a distinctly ‘motherly’ look, before smiling again. “Yes, your mother and I were lovers for most of college. We broke off our relationship when she met your father and I moved to New York. I used to soothe her aches and pains when she would return from her patrols, used to massage the soreness from her muscles, used to…”

               “Mother, stop! For the Love of God, please stop talking about what you and Mrs. Hebert used to get up to! You were her closest friend and confidante, we get that part. Can we maybe move on to something a little less embarrassing?” Charlotte blurted out, much to the relief of the other two girls and the amusement of her mother. Claire looked mildly disappointed for a moment before shrugging and nodding her acceptance.

               “All of that aside, I bought this house because it was close to your mother’s base of operations, her lair as it were. Its hidden in such a way that no normal human could ever hope to find it, but I keep my eyes open all the same.” She continued, cocking her head to the side as she met Taylor’s green orbs. “Would you like to see it now, or…”

               “YES!” Taylor almost shouted, before blushing and composing herself. “I mean, yes please Ms. Aronin. I would be in your debt, and if we could speak sometime at length about my mother…?”

               “Of course, Taylor, that’s why I’m here. Now come along, we’ll go out the back door.” Claire patted her hand lightly before leading the trio through the house, out the door, and into a small alleyway. It took but a handful of minutes for them to be in the Industrial District proper, and Taylor found herself surprised by how… _clean_ it all seemed to be. She would have thought that there would be tagging and garbage everywhere, but it really wasn’t all that bad. Leafy vines twined their way up walls, ivy covered entire faces of buildings, and piles of scrap metal were scattered about randomly. She couldn’t help but feel a small thrill run through her as they walked. It felt like they were on an adventure, delving into a mysterious world of ruins and history.

Claire finally led them into one particular building, a small watchtower of sorts in the center of a sub-district of two factories. It certainly didn’t _look_ like the awesome, bat-cave like hideout the teens had been imagining, and the older woman couldn’t help but laugh at the distinctly disappointed looks that they sported when they entered. Ah, the excitement and folly of youth in equal measure. Well, the looks on their faces would be even more amusing soon enough.

Walking to the center of the lowest floor, she stood beneath the rising spiral of the stairs before withdrawing a small knife from her pocket and pricking the tip of one finger. Ignoring the concerned words and looks of the teens behind her, she knelt down and pressed the bleeding digit to the floor and spoke in a calm, clear voice.

               “By blood I seek safe passage, by belief do I gain entrance, by bond do I serve. **Open: Vault of Truth!”**

Before anyone could remark on the oddly ritualistic words, the floor pulsed with power. Crimson lines crisscrossed the floor, weaving a pattern unrecognized before flaring brightly. As they blinked their eyes clear, they saw that the floor in front of Claire had vanished, replaced by a staircase that descended into the darkness below them. Gesturing for the girls to follow, she led the way down, and they couldn’t help but feel their confusion grow. They could see as if it were daylight, but there _wasn’t_ any light down here. Nothing from the ceiling or the walls or even the floor. It defied explanation or belief, and yet it simply _was_ all the same.

They reached the base of the stairs, and Claire reached out to touch a faintly glowing green crystal on the wall. Light, true light, blazed into being and revealed to astonished eyes a vast room. It was entirely made out of what seemed to their eyes to be a white marble, with gleaming columns supporting a high, gothic-style ceiling and…was that the roof of the Sistine Chapel recreated in the center? Now that they continued to absorb the sights around them, they saw that it was hardly the only mural in the room. Indeed, many of the walls and all of the ceiling were covered in elaborate, highly detailed and colorful depictions of battles, meetings, or strange vistas unknown.

The left side of the room seemed to be a blend of library and den, with towering bookshelves containing countless books looming over several extremely plush and comfortable looking armchairs that were themselves arrayed before a large fireplace. How that could possibly work without a chimney going aboveground, or without smoke from a hidden chimney attracting attention, they had no idea. The explanation, they were sure, would come down to ‘magic’ and a casual shrug if they asked Claire.

The other side of the room was quite the opposite, clearly intended for more physical pursuits…and not the kind a lascivious Fallen might assume from so vague a description. Rather, it was clearly dedicated to the arts of battle and conflict. Racks of weapons (predominantly swords and spears), some that were clearly training weapons and some decidedly _not_ , lined the outer perimeter while the center of the area was a large, padded arena for melee training. It looked well-used and well-cared for, with the arena clearly having seen more than one energetic bout in its time.

The back wall of the room was unique, however. It was not dedicated to a pursuit of knowledge, whether martial or intellectual, but rather greatly resembled a sort of… _shrine_. A glance of curiosity to Claire had the adult leading them forward, and as they grew closer they could discern more if its details. It was set somewhat apart from the rest of the room, an almost contained space that clearly held no small amount of significance. Pedestals bearing what looked like priceless items on silken pillows were arrayed around a large table bearing a long, polished and engraved, gold-gilded mahogany case. Behind the table, in a talk, glass display case of its own, rested what could only have been a suit of armor once worn by her mother. The silver-trimmed gold gleamed in the light, the many jewels embedded within it sparkling, and Taylor could not help but look upon it with awe…and desire.

               “Your mother had ancient enemies on her home world, individuals who she had stood opposed to for countless millennia. One of them was far greater than the others, although to say as much to his face would have ‘stroked the silver-haired bastard’s ego’ to use your mother’s words. It is from these enemies that she stole countless relics, seeking to cripple their plots and machinations.”

She gestured around at the pedestals, returning attention to them, and Taylor took note of more particular details than she had before. The first were a pair of simple-looking silver rings, engraved with markings so miniscule and elaborate even Taylor’s enhanced vision could not decipher them. An elegantly curved, bone-handled dagger that radiated _cold_ and _emptiness_ and _Void_ like an invisible fog. A choker with a seven-petaled crystalline flower at its center.  There were others, but when her eyes drifted over the contents of the pedestal after the choker, they did not move past it. Next to the splendor of the other items, it seemed to be a simple and insignificant thing. A simple wooden case with simple hinges and a simple engraving on the lid.

An engraving of a King Piece.

               “Ah yes, the relics that she devoted more attention to than any other. The relics that, more than anything else here, she intended to pass only into your hands.” Claire said softly, picking up the case and offering it to Taylor. Fingers that trembled ever so slightly raised the lid, and a wave of warmth and Light spilled out to swirl around them, for within it were 16 white chess pieces. A full set, from Pawns to King, each radiating purity and, and… _goodness_ that was almost tangible in the air around them. “These she stole from her greatest enemy, who in turn stole them from another. Her enemy intended to use them as a conduit to corrupt and destroy all who bared similar sets, and your mother got wind of it and stole them before he could make the attempt. The Devils called them Evil Pieces, enchanted items intended to empower the living or resurrect the recently-dead as ‘Reincarnated Devils’, creating groups they called Peerages, in an effort to replenish their population after The War of Heaven and Earth. Annette spent decades, maybe even centuries, studying them. Learning about them, and trying to purify them. She succeeded not long after you turned ten years old.”

She went on to explain the complexities and tactical system of a Peerage: the roles of each piece, the power they conferred, everything that she knew and could think of was imparted on the carefully listening Nephilim. A long silence lingered when she had finished, before a damp-eyed Taylor spoke with a voice hardly above a whisper.

               “I remember seeing her working on these when I was little. She told me that they would help me make the most loyal and wonderful friends that I could ever dream of. She told me that they would let me be the greatest hero in history, that _everyone_ would know my name.” she looked up at those with her. “I don’t know what to think. If she hadn’t stolen all these relics, maybe I would still have my mother. If she hadn’t stolen them, my father might still have his wife. Yet, all I can feel is the desire for the power and companionship they will provide. What kind of daughter does that make me?”

               “A human one, Taylor. You vowed to your mother’s memory to become a great hero, and you know that these will provide the power you need to do it. Simply by nature of your birth, you could defeat most villains in this city, but that isn’t enough is it?” Claire answered softly, and Taylor shook her head slightly. “No, its not. You want to destroy the Endbringers, destroy The Nine, free Heartbreaker’s slaves…you want power not purely for the sake of power, but to protect those you love and innocents alike. I can promise you that your mother would have that be your focus, rather than mourning her for eternity. Remember her, love her, miss her, and honor her by following your dream.”

Taylor stared down at the gleaming white stone before her, mind turning over and over as she though things through. She was afraid, in a way, that the power that was literally being held out to her would corrupt her, change her. Would she become evil, cruel and petty like so many Devils and Fallen were on Trifecta? Would she become removed from the affairs of humans, barely intervening out of arrogance and fear of Falling, like the Angels? Would she see those around her as comrades and family, or as tools for her advancement and pleasure?

She looked at Charlotte, who seemed unworried. Confident that she would be as good as her mother was, that she would be just as heroic and kind.

She looked at Claire, whose every pore seemed to seep serene assurance and confidence just as strong as her daughter’s.

She looked to dearest Emma, whose eyes were worried, but it was fear _for_ her rather than _of_ her that lingered within those topaz eyes. The confidence in Emma’s bearing, the confidence underlying the loving concern, was to her stronger than that of the two Aronin women, for it was not based on reputation or relation alone. No, Emma’s confidence in her strength of will, her sense of right and wrong, was thanks only to a lifetime of experiences at her side. No inflated stories, no rumor-mongering nor awe-struck memories influenced the redhead’s beliefs, only knowledge most intimate. It was those eyes that gave Taylor the courage to reach for the King piece…only to have Claire pull the box away.

               “Not yet. Your mother left a letter for you to read before you claimed your Peerage, one that she said was vitally important.” The mother explained at Taylor’s angry and confused frown, pulling an envelope out from under the pillow the formerly-Evil Pieces had rest upon until a handful of minutes ago. Quickly opening and scanning through the brief text within, Taylor hummed in understanding and turned to the two silver rings. Claiming them from their pedestal, she slipped one on to each ring finger…and almost immediately collapsed to one knee as all of her strength, magical and physical alike, seemed to vanish.

               “I’m alright, that was supposed to happen.” She told Emma and Charlotte, who had moved to kneel beside her with twin cries of alarm. “They’re limiters, originally meant for powerful prisoners. For me, they’ll let me take the King piece without worrying about accidentally killing someone the first time I get into a cape fight.”

               “Is the King piece really that powerful? I mean, wouldn’t the Queen provide the biggest boost? The King is, like, totally useless in chess, right?” Emma asked as she helped her sister regain her feet, and Taylor chuckled a little tiredly and bobbed her head in a nod.

               “With most modern Peerages on Trifecta, you would be right. The Queen is the most powerful and most versatile piece that can be bestowed there now, but only because the man who created the Evil Pieces made the King too powerful. Whatever inherent strengths a user possesses, it enhances up to 100 fold. The _worst_ it can do is multiply it by a factor of 10. There isn’t anyway to tell how much it will be ahead of time, of course, but I could kill a regular human with a hard punch _now_. Multiply Nephilim strength by 10 to a 100? _I could do it by flicking a finger_. Not exactly a great way to take live prisoners as a hero, hey?”

               “Jesus Christ…” Emma couldn’t help the cliched phrase, and there was a moment of silence before Charlotte snorted and began to laugh, while Taylor and Claire just shook their heads and laughed softly. Emma blushed and scowled at them, fully aware of the ironic, appropriateness of her comment. “Oh, shut up! The point is, we get it. You’ll be able to bounce Endbringers around like basketballs, you don’t want to hurt regular people too badly, I inserted foot in mouth. _Moving on_.”

Taylor nodded again, and this time when she reached for the King piece, Claire didn’t stop her. As her fingers wrapped around it and the artifact read her intent, it was absorbed into her very soul. Pain and pleasure blossomed like conflagrations, both in measures that she had never experienced before, and she opened her mouth to scream…but no sound could emerge from her lungs. Instead, wings burst from her back, a pillar of light surrounded her, and the world quite literally trembled around them. When the light finally faded, Taylor was back in her ‘human’ form, her power brought under control both through the limiters and her own efforts.

               “God, what a rush.” She mumbled fervently, quirking her lips in amusement at her own follow-up for Emma’s slip of the tongue. She looked herself over with raised eyebrows, giving a low whistle. The King piece had enhanced her physically, both in the muscular nature and…not. To her bemusement, she could feel flares of jealousy and irritation from both Charlotte and Emma as she prodded various bits of her body, including her newly muscular build. True to her nature, however, the enhanced musculature did nothing to detract from her femininity, in fact it was noticeable only to those who had known her well before. It defied understanding, but then again science and logic didn’t exactly apply to being such as herself the same way it did to regular humans.

It wasn’t just her body that had been enhanced, though. Even with the limiters crushing her power in their iron grip, she could still feel that her power had grown exponentially. She couldn’t really tell by how much, but it was obvious to her that she would have to work on her fine-tuned control once more. Her power was quite literally leaking out of her, something that she had taken nearly four months to fix before. She was willing to bet that it would take longer than that, now. Much longer. Damnit. Well, great efforts provide great rewards and all that.

Raising her hands slightly, she began to exert her power, clusters and sparks of Light swirling around her as she tried to recreate the same displays of finesse she had become accustomed too of late. Unfortunately, she failed utterly. Oh, the spiraling lights were all very impressive for her audience, and it was certainly greater in scope and vibrancy than her first attempts had been when she had originally started out, but it was crude and virtually formless. A disappointment in every sense of the word, and one that she found somewhat irritating. Then again, that in and of itself was reassuring. She didn’t suddenly feel it was necessary or even a good idea to simply flatten everything in her path with the magical version of an orbital bombardment. The power increase hadn’t consumed her, she still wanted _control_ over brute strength, she still valued safety of herself and others over displaying her own innate superiority.

               “Well, damnation. It seems I’m going to have to redouble my training efforts. All my fine control is totally shot, and control is kind of important for limiting collateral damage.” She finally said aloud, quite dryly, allowing the magic filling the air to dissipate once again. She hummed in thought as she turned her attention back to the chess set, the…well, she wasn’t going to call them ‘Evil Pieces’ anymore, so she supposed she would call them ‘Holy Pieces’. “Now, what to do with you…?”

               “Give one to me.” Charlotte volunteered immediately, Emma volunteering almost immediately thereafter, and Taylor just as promptly shook her head and sliced one hand through the air in a negating gesture. “Well, why the Hell not?”

               “Because you would be in danger, and I have no interest in putting _either_ of you in a situation where you could get hurt. It won’t happen.” She retorted, and Charlotte scoffed, shifting her weight onto her back foot and folding her arms under her breasts.

               “We live in Brockton Bay, we _exist_ in constant danger. You said the pieces turn people into Devils, or since your mom tweaked them, Fallen Angels? Then we will be plenty durable and plenty strong to help you protect this city. She wouldn’t have left you an entire Set if she didn’t want you to actually use them. No matter how strong you are, you won’t be able to succeed alone.”

               “I…I don’t think I could fight, or…or _kill_ someone, but maybe I could do something else?” Emma said softly, looking faintly green at the thought of committing violence on another human being.

               “Sure, you could be a Healer or a Warder. Purely defensive and healing magic, plenty safe and plenty passive.” Charlotte agreed, ignoring Taylor’s fulminating glare, and Emma brightened noticeably at the idea, now enthusiastic rather than reluctantly determined.

               “Unacceptable! Being a healer would put her in even _more_ danger! No one has been insane enough to go after Panacea, but you don’t have entire nations in your debt to act as a Sword of Damocles either!” Taylor snapped, all three of the teens missing Claire rolling her eyes and heading for the stairs, leaving them to their argument. “Besides, you can’t dedicate the time it would take to master magic, it would take you many times longer to train!”

Her statement, intended to act as discouragement, only seemed to galvanize the duo. In the end, she was forced to concede the point in the face of the overwhelming force and immovable object that were Charlotte and Emma working together in an argument. It was agreed that Emma would focus on healing and warding with only the most basic of offensive attacks, while Charlotte expressed an interest in becoming ‘a magical tinker’ and learning to enchant, and eventually craft, items of power. Both refused to take anything higher ranking than Pawn pieces, arguing that the more powerful pieces should be reserved for those that would actually be fighting on the proverbial front lines beside Taylor. She might have fought harder, perhaps, if not for the fact that she could Promote them at will to make them safer. She would also place her own wards, as powerful as she could make them, on their homes.

               “Well damn, we’re going to be the hottest girls at Winslow, that’s for sure.” Was all Emma had to say about her newly enhanced form, once she and Charlotte had pulled themselves together after the transformation from Mortal to Fallen. At the deadpan looks she received from her Sister Pawn and King (and wasn’t it odd, to so easily call them that in her mind?), she shrugged and smirked as she posed. “What, we will! I’ve been jealous of Taylor’s looks for _ages_ and I finally look just as good! You think that I’m not going to enjoy it to the fullest?”

               “One would think that having _wings and magic powers_ would be more significant than improving already fantastic looks.” Charlotte drawled as she flexed her own wings experimentally, stirring the air lightly with a look of fascination as she manipulated muscles and limbs she hadn’t possessed five minutes before. “This is going to take some getting used to…”

               “Yes, and the first thing you need to learn is how to retract them, to pull them inside your soul. Funnily enough, its rather important to have the ability to not walk around with great big wings every moment of every day.” Taylor responded with a small smile as they continued to inspect themselves carefully. It reminded her of the first time she had exposed her wings, the first time she had really thought about what she was.

Guiding them through the requisite steps was quick and easy, helped along as they were by instinctual control over their bodies, and soon enough what appeared only to be three abnormally attractive teenaged girls were standing in the center of the room. They spent some time wandering about, investigating the library’s colossal collection and regarding with no small amount of awe some of the tomes held therein. While there were many that they could not even begin to guess the origin and contents of, but even they knew that the glass case holding a Gutenberg Bible was significant.

               “Looks like your mother had a fondness for collecting things, my King.” Charlotte commented absently as she leafed through an edited copy of _The Malleus Malificarum_ , the edits mostly featuring notes how horrifically stupid the people who wrote it and followed it were. And how God would hardly be pleased with the actions that they claimed were in His name. She couldn’t wait to find Annette’s notes on The Spanish Inquisition or the bloodier parts of The Crusades. It would be as amusing as it would be enlightening, she was sure. “Some of these books are _ancient_.”

               “She was there when they were written, so I guess it isn’t that surprising that she would have them. She did end up being a Literature teacher, after all.” Emma commented from where she was examining a shelf of somewhat less esoteric and ancient books, helpfully labeled _Science Fiction_. “Although she should have been a History teacher, given that she probably _met_ most of the people she would be teaching about.”

The trio couldn’t help but laugh at that, because it had a strong element of truth to it despite how absurd it sounded. None of the girls spared a thought to the fact that someday people very well could think and say the same thing about the three of them. As with most teens, little thought had been given to dying in the distant future, and so it was of no surprise that they didn’t give much to the fact that they were now functionally immortal, if not invulnerable. It was a concept that they didn’t, couldn’t, yet grasp, for it was too far outside their perceptions and normal contemplations.

The rest of the night would be spent exploring their new abilities and the legacy that had been left to Taylor, a legacy collected over countless millennia.

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The final weeks of summer vacation passed quickly, with Taylor’s drive to re-train herself and advance the skills of her two Pawns as rapidly as possible being balanced with Charlotte and Emma’s determination to make her spend ‘normal’ time with her father and with them. Emma had already seen how deep into her cause Taylor could go, and now that she was in a position to do so, she was going to ensure that it did not happen again. Taking up the cape names of Solace and Artificer, the duo worked hard to learn the basic tenets of their chosen skills, and if there was one thing that was more useful than anything else in this situation, it was determination.

Magical efforts, Taylor explained, was not just based on pure mystical might. Rather, the strength of will of the caster was vitally important. Creation was _natural_ , it was the way it was meant to be on the grand scope (leaving aside all of the things humans did to nature, as that was a different matter entirely), and so Creation resisted supernatural efforts to change it. A spell-caster had to match their Will and Mana against the Creation’s desire, for want of a better word, to remain as it was. The greater the changes you wished to impose, the greater your Will and Mana had to be. As she described it, magic was the method of using supernatural power to twist the world to the user’s desires, though of course there were limits to what any being (Human, Fallen, Devil, or Angel) could do to manipulate Creation.

The key, therefore, was to work _with_ nature instead of against it. Accelerate the body’s natural ability to heal wounds, imbue an item with power during the creation process rather than after it. While this obviously couldn’t succeed in every situation, it would be more than enough to provide a basic starting point from which to advance to more…blunt approaches.

As they lay in bed, the night before their first day of high-school, each reflected upon the next day.

Charlotte was confident that Taylor would be running the place not long after their arrival. The denizens of Winslow, those not already under the sway of the gangs, would be desperate for someone to follow. Someone who would protect them and guide them away from the gangs. Those in the gangs would recognize someone beyond themselves, someone greater in scope than their petty feuding, and some might even abandon their criminal ways when shown a good example. All in all, she knew without a doubt that everything would work out just fine.

Emma, for her part, was worried about how they would be treated. The people at Winslow High were not known for their deep and abiding morality, nor their close relationship with all that was Just and Good. Sexual harassment was certainly a probability, given their looks, and she knew that people would be drawn to admire them for appearance if nothing else. The gangs wouldn’t appreciate anyone doing anything that could be perceived as damaging their influence over the student body, their prime recruitment material, and things could get unpleasant rapidly if the wrong series of events took place. Wrong events that would take hardly any effort whatsoever to put into motion. Not for the first time in the last few weeks did she reflect upon the fact that, before she had discovered the truth, her main concern with school would have been popularity and who was the cutest boy. How much things could change, in so short a time.

Taylor, in contrast to her two Pawns and friends, was not concerned with teenaged power games or petty actions from petty people. No, she knew that nothing the wannabe bangers at Winslow could do would harm her for any noticeable length of time, but she wasn’t sure just how durable Charlotte and Emma were. Even if guns and blades were insignificant to them, as new and relatively weak as they were, they would still be in danger if anyone realized they could use the duo against her. She doubted they, as virtual newborns, could contend with the parahuman leaders of Brockton Bay’s criminal elements.

She resolved once more a resolution she had made many times before: anyone who tried to harm the people she loved would find out just how Wrathful she could be.

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	4. Chapter Three

**Taking some artistic license with HS DxD races and their inborn traits here and there, mostly because it seems logical to me and partially because I feel like it. *shrugs* Anyway, on with the show!**

**Remember, as always, to fill the thread with speculation and to fill the TV Tropes page with tropes!**

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Winslow High School, one of the original institutions of education of Brockton Bay, had not aged well. In generations past, it had been one of the best high schools in the state. Athletics and Intellectual competitions alike had been one by its students more often than not, and several of the more prominent people in the city were counted amongst its alumni. As with most of outer reaches of the city, it had fallen far since those days of glory. Once-polished white stone was now almost universally marred by graffiti from not only all three gangs but any random asshole with a can of spray paint that felt stupid or brave enough to tag the disputed building. It’s surrounding lawns were likewise marred, litter of all kinds scattered across their mostly-brown expanses, such things as still-smoldering joints and cigarettes. Even the inside of the school was filthy, and in truth it was only the sports fields that were in any sort of good form. It was amusing, one might suppose, how druggies, racists, and pseudo-Triad members could put aside their loathing for one another long enough to play or watch a game.

Twas a pity that they couldn’t be just as reasonable and decent when it came to every other moment they were alive. Instead, they had to drag their feuds and rhetoric into _everything else_ , inevitably and invariably spoiling any semblance of fun or relaxation that there was to be had. Indeed, the first day of school had yet to officially begin, and there had already been a handful of scuffles between various low-level gang members. The shot-callers, such as they were, contented themselves with scoping out potential prospects amongst the incoming freshman. Most of them would never amount to anything more than soldiers or grunts for those above them, but that wasn’t something the recruiters cared about. They would lie, manipulate, and intimidate anyone they could in hopes of impressing their superiors enough to advance out of relative irrelevance and obscurity themselves. ‘Better these kids than me’ they thought to themselves, when they bothered to spare a thought to their incumbent victims. They would use these poor, naïve idiots to advance themselves without a second thought, as had been done to them, and they were confident that there would be little to stop them in their efforts.

They had no idea what was coming.

Madison Clements, cute and petite late bloomer of a brunette with pale blue eyes, was putting what textbooks she didn’t need for first period into her locker when they arrived, and she was the first to witness their entrance, for she was the closest locker to the front doors. And an entrance it was, for they swept into the building like they owned it.

They were a trio of girls, each insanely and jealousy-inducingly beautiful.

In the lead was a tall ravenette with long, flowing, slightly (and naturally, she was willing to bet!) curled hair that hung past her shoulders and swayed in time with her hips as she walked. Her bust, which Madison observed with envy and no small amount of depression, was larger than Mrs. Clements’ despite belonging to a fellow freshman. She exuded confidence and charisma, her stride graceful and measured, and she was clearly accustomed to being respected or even obeyed.

Flanking her a half step behind, looking more like bodyguards from TV than anything else, were a redhead and a brunette. Each was just as attractive as their apparent leader, each walked with the same grace, but it was obvious to a practiced or particularly observant eye that they were somehow… _lesser_ than the ravenette. They lacked the same aura, the same bearing of confidence and power that the leader possessed, and they seemed to unconsciously defer to her even in something so benign as walking down the hallway.

She would have assumed that they were some sort of Empire 88 bigwigs if not for the silver Star of David the brunette was prominently, even proudly, displaying around her neck. They certainly weren’t ABB or Merchants, either, anyone could tell that just by looking at them. Which meant that they were an unknown fourth faction. Madison, fully aware of how unpleasant her time at Winslow had the potential to be, immediately decided to ingratiate herself to them. They would protect her without wanting _things_ from her like the gangs might have, and that suited her right down to the ground.

She looked around at her fellow students and noticed their own reactions to the trio. Awe and confusion seemed to be the most prominent reactions, as well as no small amount of lust from the more blatantly unsavory types. The confusion, if nothing else, she could easily understand. These girls looked like they belonged at Immaculata or Arcadia, or even some prestigious college. Not a shithole like Winslow, with gangs and a staff that was legendary for their apathy. Only Mrs. Knott and Mr. Gladly had a reputation for being anything more than that, and one was ‘the nice one’ while the other was a sorta-creepy guy that tried to act like he was one of the ‘cool kids’ despite being one of the teachers.

The reactions of the known gang members was reassuring, in a way, as their reactions confirmed her own guesses about the three girls. None of them were displaying any recognition or familiarity towards the new arrivals, and the trio didn’t seem to be reacting to or acknowledging anyone specific either. She thought about approaching them right that minute, but she held herself back. Better to wait until she ran into them in class or something, it would be more natural that way and would improve her chances.

The newly arrived Taylor and her Pawns kept grimaces from their faces with some effort as they headed for the office to get their locker and homeroom assignments. They could _smell_ the lust wafting off of many of those that were observing their entrance, and though a part of them preened at inspiring Lust in others, the more human parts were displeased with people looking at them like prizes to be won. Oh, some of it was probably entirely innocent physical attraction. After all, they were the most beautiful people in the building. That being said, they were positive that the more unpleasant characters in the crowd were thinking of nothing but getting them into bed for the sake of some quick fun and bragging rights. Fortunately, they weren’t stupid enough to fall for that, powers or no powers.

It was a handy thing, really, to be able to get a feel for the emotions of those around you. Fallen, and Devils of course, had the ability to feel the emotions of those around them. For the vast majority of the two races, those who spent no time honing the skill, it was an inbuilt instinct gifted to them upon their birth. A legacy of their forefathers, or in some cases their own, Sin. Like their beauty and charisma, it was a tool meant to help them enthrall and manipulate the hapless humans that were their prey, their targets of corruption. The downside, of course, was that it could only be ignored, not deactivated. And none of them were practiced enough to ignore it.

Stepping into the office, Taylor couldn’t help but wrinkle her nose slightly in disgust. It wasn’t _dirty_ per se, but it wasn’t exactly clean either. It was obviously also overworked, inefficient, or both. Tall stacks of paperwork, some of it looking very official and significant indeed, sat in barely-neat piles on the _floor_ , rather than cabinets or even cardboard boxes. At least two of the staff dedicated to the room were, as far as she could tell, pretending to be incredibly busy with management tasks when in reality they were killing time in the hopes to avoid having to deal with any students. Glancing at the line of increasingly irritated kids waiting to speak with the one functional attendant, Taylor glanced at her companions and raised an eyebrow while dipping her head slightly towards one of the lazier staff. Emma nodded and stepped forward, a smile that was, as bright and eager looking as it was, as fake as their chosen office lady’s breasts and blond hair.

               “Good Morning!” the redhead chirped cheerfully, startling the woman and turning her gaze from…was that fucking _solitaire_? Really?! onto the teen that had _somehow, magically appeared before her_. “My name is Emma Barnes! Me and my friends were looking for our scheduales and locker assignments!”

               “I;m not sure that…” the woman started her attempt to make them someone else’s problem, but Emma cut her off in an impeccably polite manner.

               “I know you’re all swamped with work here, it being the first day of school and everything, but it would _so embarrassing_ if we were late to classes or couldn’t find our lockers! I’d hate to get dragged into the Principal to explain being tardy on my very first day!”

The words were calculated, and Taylor wondered just how much of a lawyer’s cunning and word-play her sister had picked up from Mr. Barnes as she watched the impact Emma’s words had. The woman’s eyes twitched over to the closed door that bore the word PRINCIPAL in fading black letters across the window for a moment, before she plastered a weak, and incredibly fake, smile onto her own face.

               “Of course, of course. Let me see what I can do for you girls, okay?” she replied, and Taylor was impressed that she managed not to grit her teeth while she was saying it. She even managed to keep the intense dislike and irritation she was currently feeling for Emma off of her face and (mostly) out of her voice when she said it. An impressive feat, really.

The woman moved with an efficiency that surprised the trio, clearly hoping to deal with them and move things along so she could get back to more important things, but enough people had noticed her helping them that it was impossible. A smirking Emma led the way back out of the room with a dark glare boring into her back as a dozen teens abandoned the original line to que up in front of her.

               “I think you might have annoyed her, Emma. I’m not entirely sure of course, but I have a gut instinct that she isn’t terribly fond of you.” Charlotte said dryly, lips quirked slightly in amusement.

               “You could be right, Charlotte, you could be right. However shall Emma live with such a burden weighing so heavily on her shoulders?” Taylor agreed solemnly, eyes dancing with delight as the moved down through the hallways, her two friends reorienting themselves behind her again. The trio ignored those around them as they walked laughing through the hallway. Charlotte, eyes ever-sharp, restrained a smirk of satisfaction as she saw the crowd parting before them like the Red Sea before Moses, their eyes locked on the point of the arrow. She could see that they were already beginning to recognize something above them was within their gaze. Something inherently _superior_ to them.

               “Through great struggles will I build the strength to stand tall under so crushing a weight.” Emma sighed theatrically, shifting her gait to a plodding shuffle for a moment, a dramatic moue of exhaustion sweeping over her face. Taylor rolled her eyes fondly and opened the door to their homeroom, claiming one of the fore-most seats with Emma and Charlotte on either side of her. It might make her look like a teacher’s pet (not that she cared if people came to that assumption), but she doubted that sitting in the back-row, traditionally the bastion of the ‘bad’ or ‘disruptive’ students, would do her group any good either.

Over the next ten minutes the other students filtered in, casting curious looks their way, some even outright staring at them, but as with the hallway this was ignored. They were going to stare regardless of how the trio reacted, and anyone that actually had the fortitude to come up to them might be worth getting to know. Which sounded somewhat cold, perhaps, but anyone who simply stared at them all day and never said a word to them could hardly be the most engaging of company.

               “Good Morning, class!” what could only be their homeroom teacher, one Gladys Knott, said cheerfully as she strode into the room and plopped a large stack of folders onto the front-most and largest desk in the room. She was pretty enough, for someone the same age as her father, with short, curled brown hair and a fairly slim build. Hazel eyes, though hardly dead, nonetheless belied with a certain dullness the professed enthusiasm with which she had entered the room. Obviously, she was less than thrilled to be starting yet another year of ‘teaching’ people who were more interested in committing crimes than achieving academic excellence. It was…discouraging to see that kind of attitude in an educator, but then said educator had probably been long since discouraged from putting her all into something as fruitless as this. How very sad. “I have here your basic start-of-the-year folders, so make sure to take one on your way out of the room! Attendance will be held every morning at 8:15 sharp, anyone who arrives after that will need to go to the office first to be marked tardy. Three tardy arrivals without a good excuse will result in detention. Some of your teachers may take attendance for individual classes, some might not. Any of you in a computer class certainly will, as I will be your teacher for those classes.”

Attendance went fairly quickly, each student responding when their name was called out (some rather lazily, some with a rebellious grumble, some promptly) and having their presence marked down properly. Amusingly, there were no absences, something which _almost_ surprised Taylor. Then it occurred to her that those who would normally be expected to skip, like gang hopefuls, would want to be present the first day in order to get recruited or to make a recruitment pitch of their own.

#######################################################

None of the trio realized how much attention they were really receiving, those first few hours. How much interest they had generated with their arrival and with their bearing or attitudes. It was not a romantic or carnal interest, or at least not _purely_ carnal, but the shot-callers of the gangs had taken note both them and the reactions of the student body to their presence. Reactions that they were rather less-than-pleased to see, because while three pretty girls weren’t really important, any influence they ended up having over the students could very well be relevant. None of them had exactly tried to feel the trio out, but from the way they carried themselves around bangers it was obvious that they were not prospective recruits. Nor were they, like the other unaffiliated, cowed into submission and going day to day trying to avoid notice. No, they were _drawing_ attention and reveling in it, and that could mean trouble for their stranglehold and recruitment within the institution.

Should that happen, the shot-callers would find themselves facing very awkward and unpleasant inquiries from their superiors, inquiries that they _really_ wanted to avoid. While Kaiser wasn’t the most unreasonable of bosses, failure tended to mean that you lost any chance of advancing in the ranks. Lung was prone to punishing failure or perceived incompetence by turning people into cinders and scorch marks, if it was bad enough…or if he heard about it on a day when he was in a bad mood. Skidmark… well, with him it really depended on how high he was at the time you talked to him. The Merchants weren’t exactly high-class people, and very rarely did they do anything sober.

The point was, no one affiliated with any of the gangs would be pleased if the current state of affairs was disrupted too badly. Things had been balanced like this for years, with each of the major gangs having their own business and own territories. Oh, there was squabbling fairly frequently, but it was almost obligatory, an afterthought. The uneasy peace that had been put in place by Marquis was entirely too useful to everyone involved to ruin it recklessly and without careful planning. Even the PRT had a very _laissez-faire_ approach to the city, interceding only when they deemed it necessary.

Now, obviously, three teenaged girls could hardly ruin all of that just by interfering with gang recruitment at a high school, especially if it was only by accident, but that wasn’t the point! Each of them resolved to contact their immediate superiors, mid-tier operators at best, so that things could get passed up the pipeline. If nothing else, their own asses would be relatively covered if something insane happened in regards to the situation.

But it wasn’t only criminals that took note of them with suspicion. Well, not only _criminal_ criminals, for while the laws had been changed a great deal, vigilantism was still rather frowned-upon by The Powers That Be. For one Sophia Hess, the vigilante ‘hero’ known as Shadow Stalker, there was an altogether different facet to the cause for the narrowed eyes with which she observed her fellow freshman girls. Unlike the gang-bangers, she (accurately, as it happened) had surmised not long after first seeing them that they were more than they seemed.

She had watched the way that they interacted, watched the way that Barnes and Aronin had seemed to orient their every action around Hebert, how they sat partly turned towards her, how they hung onto every word she spoke. Everything they did was focused on the ravenette, and there was an all too bitter taste in her mouth as she saw more and more of this behavior. It was more than respect or teenaged hero-worship of a pretty and apparently popular girl, more than simply a firm friendship.

No, Taylor Hebert had to be a Master of some description. Not to the same level as Heartbreaker, perhaps, but it was the only explanation that made sense. Granted, that didn’t automatically make her a villain, but off the top of her head she could think of… _one_ Master that wasn’t an evil maniac, and that was because she preferred to use her power to be a _singer_ of all things! Everyone knew that the Wards wouldn’t be in a shithole like this, so even if she was an unannounced new member she wouldn’t be here. And Brockton Bay would certainly be a smart place to try and gather thralls, especially powerful parahuman ones, given the chaos that regularly was unleashed by the gangs. Some of the most powerful capes in America, certainly on the East Coast, lived in this city. What a Master could do with the likes of Kaiser and Lung under her Thrall… well, it would take the Triumvirate getting involved to stop her, and the dangers of engaging a Master was that anyone you sent after them could become theirs as well.

So, she would watch and wait. Follow the other girl whenever possible, listen to their conversations, and try to discern the best way to remove her. She could hardly shoot her with a bolt in school, and a well-planned ambush would be the only way to take her out ‘in the field’, because Sophia had no intention whatsoever in being a slave for the rest of her (probably short) life. Predators, she knew, were patient. They waited for the perfect moment before striking, elsewise they might find themselves becoming the prey…

 _Fucking nigger cunt! You think you can talk shit to your betters! I oughta show you what you animals are_ really _good for!_

She shook her head violently, banishing the memory to the darkest parts of her mind where it belonged. She had been prey once, but she had been reforged in that alleyway. Made stronger, made into a predator. Now _she_ was the one that hunted, _she_ was the one that was feared in the darkness of the streets. It was not _she_ who screamed and cried and begged for a savior that would never come, but those who had once tried to rape and murder her simply for her skin color and some trash-talk. Only through strength could anyone survive in this shitty city, and those that didn’t display it weren’t worthy of being saved. Why should she risk her life for them, when they would roll over and die the next time someone attacked them? Why should she risk dying to save someone who would not risk their own to save her were the situations reversed?

Well, given that no one had tried to help her then, she knew the answer to that particular question.

               “…and Sophia Hess, take the back right table. You’ll be working on the Hammurabi Law Code and comparing it to modern law.” The voice of the history teacher broke her out of her thoughts, and she groaned mentally as she got to her feet. Why, in God’s name _why_ was there always a teacher or two that insisted on jumping straight in on day one? And a comparison of modern law to something almost four thousand years old? _Ugh!_ I mean sure it might not be too hard, since Hammurabi’s Code had mostly ended its laws with ‘shall be killed’, but it was still way too much work for day one.

Her eyes widened slightly as she turned her gaze to the table that she had been assigned and saw the three girls that had been dominating her thoughts sitting and waiting her with polite smiles. For a moment she balked, considering asking the teacher for a different group or faking sick, but the thought was quashed by both pride and pragmatism. It would arouse suspicion if she acted so blatantly in order to avoid them. They would want to know _why_ , and she couldn’t guarantee that they wouldn’t be able to force it out of her through the Master’s power. Once that happened, she was back to the whole ‘slave for life’ thing. She also loathed the idea of tucking tail and running just because she was assigned to the group for one 45 minute period! That was hardly an action befitting of a true predator like herself!

Her soul so steeled, she set her jaw and squared her shoulders before striding towards her table. Polite greetings were exchanged all around, including the entirely superfluous introductions, and the work began. Despite herself, Sophia begrudgingly had to admit that the trio did pull their own weight. A fairly surprising thing to encounter in _any_ high school, but especially one like Winslow, and she soon found herself enjoying the rapid-fire debate that sprang up over questions of morality and decency that inevitably sprang up when discussing law.

               “They didn’t _have_ the technology, the space, or the resources to imprison people for years on end because the person committed a crime! Not to mention how short-lived people were, a ten year sentence as an adult was a death sentence anyway! They couldn’t just go to the grocery store and buy more food, or go to Walmart and replace property! Theft or destruction of vital things like food and shelter was as good as attempted murder!” Charlotte cried in exasperation after a good five minutes of argument over severity of crime vs severity of punishment, with Emma taking the position it was excessive in the Law Code.

               “That’s not the point! Resources and space or not, executing a child for stealing a loaf of bread because he was hungry is insane! For God’s sake, they were still doing that shit during the Industrial Revolution! How could these people live with themselves!” Emma snapped back, and Charlotte grimaced and tilted her head in agreement.

               “You’re both right, I think.” Taylor interceded, voice a little soothing, and Sophia’s hackles raised instinctively as both combatants quieted and looked at her respectfully. “Yes. A harsher world required harsher laws to survive, but there was a degree of harshness that was excessive even for the time. I think that we can all agree that today’s laws are often all to lenient, on the other hand? Sophia, what do you think?”

               “Damn straight they are. Pay a lawyer enough money, or a judge for that matter, and you can literally get away with murder. Spin a good enough sob story and they let you walk with a warning that is more useful for toilet paper than for any difference it actually makes.” The vigilante agreed bluntly, some of the disgust, contempt, and all to personal hatred she felt for sure things leaking into her voice despite herself. “I’m all for people doing what it takes to survive, but I’ve never met a ‘banger who did what he did so he could take his sweet little old grandma to lunch on the weekends. They’re scum, plain and simple, and I’m tired of reading escape or release notices in the goddamn paper a day or two after the bastards get arrested red-handed.”

               “Yeah, I hear that. It gets to my Dad, too.” Hebert sighed with a nod of commiseration. “He’s had bangers caught messing around on the docks, hands them over to the cops, and catches them at it again a couple of days later. I dunno how he puts up with it instead of beating the crap out of them instead.”

Sophia filed that comment away carefully for later investigation. She knew Hebert’s dad was some sort of important guy in the Docklands, but since she never patrolled that area she hadn’t ever paid anything about it much attention. Better to focus her memorization on any information about her actual prey, not those that they hunted. Now, of course, the subject was actually relevant to her, which meant she would be busy with her computer tonight.

Taylor, for her part, regarded the dark-skinned teen with well-disguised curiosity and no small amount of apprehension. The other girl was tense, much more tense than working on a school project with stranger ought to make her. Obviously, part of it was the subject they were discussing, something that had to have a personal connection from her vehemence and her tone, but it was more than that. The fact that she was trying (and mostly succeeding) to _hide_ that tension from Taylor and her two friends was mildly concerning, again because it felt like there was more to it than simple social jitters. She was somewhat tempted to try and delve deeper into the subject, to wield her power in a search for answers, but she banished the idea quickly. There lay a slippery slope of a most profane violation of rights, because she honestly couldn’t imagine something worse than someone getting into your head uninvited.

               “So, Sophia, why don’t you tell us more about yourself? We’re done with the assignment, so…?” she offered leadingly, frowning ever so slightly when she saw a jolt, almost a shiver, race through the other girl. Why did she react like that? It was a very innocent and normal question… wasn’t it?

               “Not much to say, really. Lived in the Bay my whole life, like to play soccer and do track. When it comes to book stuff, anything more’n history seems like a huge waste of time to me. I ain’t gonna be an astronaut, so any math I need to do I can do with my phone.” Sophia responded with feigned casualness, relaxed words belying a racing mind. She had to have fucked up somewhere, that was the only explanation for Taylor suddenly prying into her life. Asking personal questions that would help the Master get control over her and make her act ‘normal’. She cursed herself internally for answering honestly, of vaguely. She should have said she enjoyed things she actually hated, that way her family would notice if she was Mastered and suddenly started doing them all the time.

               “Mmh, I can’t help but agree. I remember when I was younger, teachers always used to say that we ‘wouldn’t always be walking around with a calculator in our pockets.’ Well, the joke is on them now, isn’t it?” Charlotte seemed incredibly smug as she pulled her smartphone out of her pocket and waved it through the air slightly with a smirk. Sophia mustered a smile and weak chuckle of her own as the other two laughed in agreement, involuntarily remembering being told the same thing almost daily. “Course the school system is totally fucked up anyway. Imaginary numbers literally don’t exist, but we have to waste our time learning how to not find them anyway. Our parent’s tax dollars at work, girls.”

               “Huzzah for bureaucracy. Ruining a good thing since forever.” Emma drawled, setting off another round of amusement, and Sophia found that she needed to remind herself that they were enemies. They were so at ease, so relaxed and easily amused that she caught herself getting altogether too comfortable in their presence more than once. A sinister and unpowered trick on their part, or perhaps the subtler workings of a Master’s influence? She would have to add that to her list of things to research tonight. She almost sighed in relief as the bell rang and the class began to break up. Even if she had more classes with them today, she probably wouldn’t be having any more group projects that would have her virtually trapped with them for entire periods.

#######################################################

As the day progressed, Taylor found herself becoming more and more disappointed with the Winslow staff, which admittedly was an achievement (if a dubious one) given her lack of confidence in them in the first place. Most of the teachers could clearly not give a shit (never mind two!) about any of the students or the quality of their education. They were, with the exception of Mrs. Knott and Mr. Gladly, quite possibly the most apathetic and monotonously-voiced individuals she had ever had the dubious pleasure of meeting. She had never thought that she could be bored enough by a teacher to doze of in class, but she had honestly found herself drifting into daydreams with discomfiting frequency.

As for the two ‘good’ teachers, Mrs. Knott’s interest and energy was _almost_ as farcical as it had been during homeroom. She did, at least, seem to genuinely enjoy computers and teaching about their intricacies and benefits of use. It was _something_ , at least, and was a great deal more than anyone could say about Mr. Gladly, who came across as mildly pedophiliac with the way he doted on the pretty and the popular. That, or he had ‘Peter Pan Syndrome’, because he was far more interested in being seen as ‘cool’ by the aforementioned groups of students than he was in actually being an authority figure or role model. Maybe that would improve once the first week was over, but Taylor rather doubted it. To be honest, it had actually been amusing to see his reaction when the trio had been coolly polite to his overtures of attempted comradery. The bafflement and entirely off-balance expression he had borne had nearly sent them into laughter on the spot, which was restrained only by effort to display itself as small upticks at the corner of their mouths.

Of their fellow students, only a scant handful had stood out to be of any interest: Sophia Hess, Sierra Kiley, and Madison Clements. She supposed she could mention Greg Veder as well, if only because he seemed to talk to _everyone_ regardless of how popular or not they were. Theoretically a good thing, but a five minute conversation with him revealed he had more conspiracy theories than Youtube did videos. The three girls, however, were of note for a few reasons, not the least of which is that they acted fairly normal around the trio, or at least didn’t try to impress or flirt with them five seconds after meeting them. Sierra was cordial and politely curious but didn’t seem to care one way or another about ingratiating herself to them, Sophia seemed wary but nice enough (if somewhat harsh when it came to criminals, but that was hardly surprising for a pretty black teen in a city with a neo-Nazi gang running a good half of it), and Madison was too damned bubbly to have a sort of sinister ulterior motive. Emma had, jokingly, mentioned that even Taylor had never been that cute and bouncy. Time would tell if any of them were really worth becoming friends with.

               “You mind if I join you two in testing out of here next year, My King? It’s not even the first real day of class and I already want out.” Charlotte griped several rather tedious hours later, as they stood waiting for their bus back to the docklands to arrive.

               “I certainly couldn’t leave one of my precious Companions behind here, could I?” Taylor assured her lightly, looking around subtly to see if anyone had heard the brunette’s comment. Fortunately, the only one nearby was Sophia, and she was clearly listening to music, judging by the ear-buds and the way she was ever-so-slightly bobbing her head to a beat. Probably why Charlotte felt confident enough to speak so freely in the first place, but perhaps a small discussion about security would be appropriate when they got back home. She would rather keep things on the down-low for as long as possible, and being called ‘My King’ in public would hardly help with that goal.

               “I’m kind of sad, really. The stories my parents tell about Winslow from back when they went made it sound like it was an amazing school. I get that the city has gone to shit since the Docks and Factory districts died, but it should at least be getting decent attention from the state or federal government.” Emma’s tone was distinctly disappointed, more so than Charlotte’s amused irritation and contempt.

               “The government hasn’t been doing anything right since the fifties, why should this be any different?” Charlotte scoffed almost dismissively, and Taylor frowned in thought as the two began a light-hearted squabble over the efficiency and capability (or lack thereof) of the United States bureaucracy. Part of what Emma said resonated with her, because it _didn’t_ make all that much sense that the feds wouldn’t help clean up the city. The last time any gangs had gotten as out of hand as the ones in Brockton Bay did, three other Protectorate branches had obliterated them with little in the way of hesitation or mercy. So why was Brockton Bay and its problems being ignored? She used to think it was just a horrible government writing the city off as hopeless, but now a part of her (that could charitably be called ‘overly cautious and suspicious’) was wondering if there wasn’t more to it.

Or maybe she was as paranoid as Greg and the rest of the tinfoil hat brigade.

The bus pulled up to the curb with the hiss-squeal of brakes and hydraulics, the doors swinging open to admit the three of them and Sophia, who promptly went to the back of the bus and took up the entire rear-most row of seats with her bag and body.

As her Pawns’ squabble continued, much to the apparent amusement and even interjections of several other bus-riders, Taylor turned her attention to her father and the vision she had had those short few weeks ago of his future companions. She had no idea who they might be, and she was really rather interested to try and find out. Her own curiosity aside, the faster her father met his new lovers than the happier he would be, which would certainly cheer _her_ up plenty. And, in regards to her curiosity, she couldn’t help but want to meet the women who not only would win his heart but also be willing to _share_ it. It took an uncommon pair of women to so freely, and apparently happily, share a man. A part of her was bizarrely proud of her father for being a man such women considered worthy enough to do so for, but that did nothing to sate the curiosity or the anticipation. Perhaps she could try some more direct methods of investigation by scrying for them? It was all based on intent, so while knowing their names would make it laughably easy, she didn’t _need_ to know their names to have a chance at finding them.

Something to think about, at any rate.

               “What do you think, Taylor?” her name suddenly being spoken drew her attention back to her companions, and she smiled a little and gave a lazy shrug.

               “Democracy is the worst form of government ever invented, except for every other form of government.” She quoted, tone rich with amusement, getting admittedly confused looks from the duo. Giving a little gesture, she elaborated. “It’s a quote by Churchill, and basically it means that democracy is terrible, but better than anything else. Granted, the US is technically a constitutional republic not a democracy, but that’s another matter entirely.”

The looks didn’t change to one of understanding, and she sighed under her breath. Not everyone had an millennia-old English teacher for a mother, after all, and so it shouldn’t be surprising that they didn’t know quite so much about some subjects as she did.

               “The point is, I agree bureaucracy sucks. It is still arguably better than anything else we could come up with, and humans will inevitably spoil anything good that they come across.” She explained a little curtly, suddenly not feeling like having a serious conversation or listening to one. How spoilt paradise, how heavy the burden…“What also sucks is the fact that some of our enlightened educators,” this was said with biting sarcasm and a small sneer. “felt that it was necessary to assign homework on the first day of school. They are, quite obviously, villains in disguise attempting to make us evil from frustration.”

               “…yeah, definitely not the coolest thing to do.” Emma said slowly, more than sharp enough (and familiar with Taylor’s moods and tells) to recognize that something had just happened, but not entirely sure what. “We should try to get it done fast so we can hang out longer.”

               “I agree with Emma. Sooner its over with, the sooner we can chill without an interruptions.” Charlotte voiced her own opinion, her tone a cheerful and unworried contrast to Emma’s cautious one. Perhaps because ‘hanging out’ and ‘chilling’ would involve honing their powers some more, and maybe talking to her mom about the best way to go about debuting themselves. “A little while longer and we’ll be able to have a pretty stellar party.”

Taylor felt a somewhat savage grin cross her face, very much looking forward to a stellar ‘opening bash’. Yes, another handful of weeks and her Peerage would help her usher in a new era for the city. One where people could walk with pride and confidence, without fear or suspicion. It would not be easy, would not be swift, but it _would be_.

################################################################

**So, it made sense to me that the three races, especially Fallen and Devils, could see certain things about humans around them in order to manipulate or entice said humans into their service. Nothing like seeing all their sins like a movie or whatever, but something of a sixth sense.**

**Also a little view into Sophia’s…unique world view. She is both rather observant and rather deluded, isn’t she? Ah well, we’ll just have to work on her won’t we?**


	5. Chapter Four

 

**A little later and a little shorter than I wanted it to be, but I’ve been rather busy! We’re going to be getting into some real action soon, but there is a little bit to be found here.**

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Kido Watsuki was your average, run of the mill grunt for the Azn Bad Boyz, and he liked it that way. Sure, being a lieutenant or a captain meant better rewards, but it also meant Lung-sama might turn you into a blast shadow on a warehouse floor if you fucked up. Lower pay for a longer life suited him, thank you very much, which was why he and a group of his fellows were about to shake down an Empire-affiliated 7/11. Of course, the owners would argue that paying protection money hardly counted as being affiliated, but as far as the higher ups were concerned, if they didn’t pay protection money to the ABB they were bosom friends of the enemy. Running a hand through short cropped black hair, he listened as the grunt-in-charge, Hiro, started giving out their orders.

 

“Kido, Yama, and I will deal with any customers and grab some loot. Haru, you get the cash register. Pull this off and you’re one of us, fuck it up and you’re blacklisted! No shooting unless someone pulls a gun!” the last was directed towards the very nervous-looking newbie, some fifteen year old kid named that was trying to earn his spurs. Looking at the way the kid’s hands trembled as he white-knuckle gripped his .38 revolver, Kido wondered if he should speak up before the clearly hanging-by-a-thread teen ended up murdering someone in a panic. But no, he would keep his mouth shut. He had chosen to avoid gaining anything resembling a reputation as a shot-caller or a leader of any sort, and that meant keeping his damn mouth shut. Besides, the store owners weren’t stupid enough to do anything dumb like try and fight them, their insurance would cover any damages and the Empire would probably even cut them some slack on their protection money next month. Fucking Nazis liked to do that kind of PR crap, kept people from hating them too much. “Alright, lets go!”

 

Unlike most cities, where people committing crimes like this one would wear some manner of facial covering to hide their identities, ‘normal’ criminals in Brockton Bay did their jobs uncovered. As corrupt and out-manned as BBPD was, it’s members couldn’t really try to hunt people down in the slums just for knocking off a corner store or two. Only outright murder, or crimes committed in the richer parts of town, got much of a response out of the cops. So all the quartet really had to do was throw the door open and walk in with their guns held high.          

 

               “Nobody gets hurt if everybody stays smart! Everyone in the store, empty your pockets! Cash, jewelry, watches, phones!” Hiro shouted over the startled cries of the buildings inhabitants, gun held high and on display. As the fearful shoppers began to obey with shaking hands, Haru pointed his own gun at the woman running the register and demanded she empty it into his backpack.

 

          

 

               “Fuck you, asshole! You think we’ll just roll over and play dead because you’re ABB? What are you, twelve? Get the fuck outta here!” the slim girl, probably in her late teens or early twenties herself, snarled in response. Kido couldn’t help but smirk slightly at the baffled look that overcame Haru’s face for a moment, because clearly the rookie hadn’t expected anyone to actually talk back to him. He smirk turned to a horrified look as Haru’s face purpled with rage and he pulled the trigger of his gun twice, both bullets striking the clerk in the abdomen. She collapsed with a scream, and he dashed forward to grab the gun from his hand as he made to lean over the counter and shoot again.

 

              

 

“You stupid little shit! Who fucking told you to shoot, huh?” he snarled, punching the kid across the face harshly. He had thought panic could result in a shot being fired, had been prepared for it, but for him to shoot a woman just for calling him out on his youth or a few curses was pathetic and degrading to the ABB. That was  _Merchant_  shit, damnit! And the revenge attacks by Empire goons could kill a lot of ABB members, the Nazi’s always had better guns than they did. “You fucking murder someone because she called you a kid? I should fucking kill you right now!”

 

          

 

               “She didn’t do what I told her too! She disrespected me!” Haru protested as Yama came over and hauled him to his feet, dragging him towards the door and shouting for Hiro to hurry up with the customers.

 

                         “It doesn’t fucking matter! Hiro said no shooting! You’ll be lucky to make it home alive tonight.” Kido silenced him with another punch, before shouting over his shoulder at one of the customers. “You want her to live, call a fucking ambulance after we’re gone!”

 

Practically carrying their now mostly-unconscious rookie member and the plastic bag holding their loot, the trio of more experienced ABB members quickly beat feet in an effort to get as far from the scene as possible before any cops or EMT’s could show up. Fighting the cops was one thing when you had plenty of guys backing you up, or if a cape was coming to help you, but none of them wanted to tangle with BBPD in a situation like this. Ducking into the alleyway that held their vehicle, they tossed Haru into the backseat and were preparing to make good their escape when a brilliant golden light blinded them. As they cringed away from the harsh sight, shouting with pain as their eyes (adjusted to the relative darkness of the alley) were bombarded, and three  _thwacks_  echoed. A moment later, the light winked out to reveal all three unconscious on the ground.

 

Back in the store, the customers were desperately employing all of the half-remembered high-school Health Class that they could in an attempt to save the life of the young woman who was bleeding out on the floor. As they witnessed their attempts failing, they despaired… and then a soft voice, sweet and clear, broke them from their panic and fear.      

 

               “Step aside, let me get to her.” It commanded, and they parted as a young woman knelt beside the victim, uncaring of the blood beneath her knees. She seemed to evaluate the situation for a moment before reaching out and placing her hands on the seeping wounds. Golden light spiraled around her, an aura of warmth radiating forth as the shimmering energy sank into stricken flesh. Before the amazed eyes of the customers, the blood flow slowed and stopped. New skin, pink and soft in its youth, crept across the wounds to stitch them closed once more. In less than a minute, not only was a life saved, but physical recovery time was reduced to zero. “She’ll be fine. I recommend you wait here for the police to arrive.”

 

They reached out to stop her, to ask questions or to give thanks…but she was gone, and they were left wondering what it was they were doing. Someone had saved the girl before them, they assumed, because what was once bullet holes was now unblemished skin…but who had done it? Why could they not remember?

 

When the police arrived five minutes later, they found the ABB members unconscious and tied to the nearest telephone pole, 15 year old Haru with the word ‘KILLER’ scrawled across his forehead in sharpy. A review of security footage would show the precise sequence of events, at least as far as the gang members were concerned. As for the mysterious healer, the only record of her presence from the cameras was what looked like a human-sized heat blur.

 

###########################################################################

 

               “Well done, Emma. You saved her life and shielded yourself well.” Charlotte murmured as the healer joined her and their King on the roof of a building further down the street, their superior eyes easily able to discern the goings-on at the site of their first intervention. “Though why we must remain unseen is still beyond me.”

 

          

 

               “Because I said so, for one thing.” Taylor quipped dryly, only half-serious as she watched the ABB members get bundled into a paddy-wagon. “For another, it would be best to have a reputation with the public before we act openly. We look all together too much like The Simurgh for most people to react well if we don’t have acts of heroism to claim upon our debut. Besides which, the practice in shielding ourselves is invaluable for times when we truly wish or need to be unnoticed.”

 

          

 

               “You’re the boss, but we are going to act openly eventually, right? I mean, despite what we did I don’t feel very heroic right now…” Charlotte frowned, much preferring the idea of shock and awe over the more diplomatic approach.       

 

               “No, I think Taylor is right, its more romanticized this way. The mysterious heroines saving the day without once being seen or remembered. People will have a great time building up these images of us, probably very tragic ones, and then we reveal ourselves as literal angels appearing from a golden light to deliver them from suffering. It’s all going to be quite Biblical.” Emma pointed out thoughtfully, and Charlotte immediately brightened at the promise of dramatic displays, much to Taylor’s amusement. If Charlotte seemed predisposed to one of the Sins, it would be Pride. She wasn’t  _arrogant_ , necessarily, but she was certainly well aware of the differences between the trio of Fallen Angels and capes, never mind regular humans. And there she was, as Prideful as the person she was mentally chastising. She wasn’t so really above it all, was she?

 

_She really is beautiful_. She found herself musing in the privacy of her own mind, as she watched Charlotte throw her head back and crow with laughter at Emma’s (probably accurate) impression of Mouse Protector asking for advice on how to make a properly dramatic entrance.  _Beautiful, kind, and devoted._

 

She had found herself admiring those around her more often of late, when her eyes and mind were wandering at school or at play. Most frequently Charlotte was the target of her attentions, being the one closest to her that was (as she saw it) available to her as a romantic interest. Emma was, after all, her sister, and therefore would never feature in any idle, perverse thoughts. The problem in regards to Charlotte, or any romance really, was that Taylor had exactly zero experience. She couldn’t bear the thought of fucking it up, and a part of her was also terrified that the nature of the Holy Pieces would somehow influence Charlotte down a road Charlotte might not consciously desire. She couldn’t bear the thought of doing that either, and so she agonized silently in confusion and attraction mixed with fear.

 

She wouldn’t allow hormones or her Fallen nature to ruin what she had built with the young Jewess, she didn’t care how enjoyable it would be in the short term.

 

               “We should go, My King. If we stay out too late, my mom will have no qualms whatsoever about telling your dad on us, and then we can forget about doing this again anytime soon.” The subject of her thoughts addressed her, and she blinked for a moment before nodding her agreement. Ms. Aronin had been perfectly willing to allow them to leave their sleepover in her home to do some hero work, but she had also been quite firm about how long into the night they would be allowed to do so. Fallen Angels they might be, but they were still minors and students, which meant they would toe the line and follow curfew, by God! Taking to the sky, they began winging their way back towards the Industrial District, and Charlotte grumbled softly (perhaps meant only for herself) a complaint about even  _having_ a curfew.

        

               “It is not so surprising, I think. Regardless of what you are now, you are still her daughter, her only child. She wouldn’t be much of a mother if she didn’t want you safe, even if you are Grigori.” Taylor told her gently, using the name the first Fallen Angels had been known by both amongst themselves and to Mankind. “I’m honestly surprised she is as hands-off as she is, though I can only assume she is because she knows what we are capable of.”

 

Charlotte grumbled a little more, but it was rather less genuine than before. It was obvious that her King’s reasoning pleased her, that even the suggestion that her mother allowed her the freedoms she had due to faith in her strength thrilled her. As it would any child given such consideration by their parents, and Taylor knew without a doubt that if her father ever showed that kind of faith in her she would be thrilled. Oh, he wasn’t trying to  _dampen_  her efforts in the least, but he wasn’t exactly shooing her out the door to do hero work either. Something that made her somewhat unhappy, as he of all people should be aware of what a Fallen was capable of.

 

And there was that Pride again, she really would need to keep her proverbial eye on that.

 

The journey back to Charlotte’s house was rather uneventful, save for a near-encounter with a pair of patrolling Wards. Kid Win and Vista, it looked like, and Taylor found herself wondering if her Peerage could craft a spell that would allow them the same special manipulations Vista could perform. Teleportation or flash-stepping were of course entirely doable, even if they hadn’t yet really learned how, but to actually warp the distance between one point and another could prove invaluable. Very useful for flanking maneuvers or ambushes, without the tell-tale flashes of light from teleportation or the cracking sound of flash-steps. Inroads with the Wards would have to wait, however, because she had no interest in dealing with the PRT until she had enough of a reputation to force them to approach her with respect, rather than treating her as an unruly child. Or simply attacking her on sight, which wasn’t an outlandish possibility, based solely on her visual similarities to The Simurgh. Which, admittedly, wasn’t the  _worst_ reason to attack someone. Being forced to defend herself, however, wouldn’t exactly do her reputation any good or benefit her efforts in the city.

 

Speaking of reputation, morning would bring yet another fun-filled day at Winslow. Eight hours of being surrounded by sycophants, lustful fools, and malicious thugs-in-training, all of whom wanted a piece of her group for one reason or another. The first two’s causes were painfully apparent, even to those without the gifts The Peerage possessed, but it was the third that had managed against all odds to surprise them. With a display of cunning and forethought that she had honestly never imagined them capable of, the shot-callers had taken to trying to ingratiate themselves with The Peerage for one very simple reason: to use their popularity in order to aid in the recruitment efforts of whatever gang the individual was loyal to. By appearing on good or even friendly terms with Taylor and her friends, they sought to increase their own image and make themselves seem like a good option for the students. It might even have worked, if not for Charlotte (with Taylor’s eager blessing) tearing a rather bloody strip off of one particularly bold-or foolish- Empire member who came up to them at lunch…

 

               “Hello, ladies.”  _A male voice, which was clearly trying to sound smooth and sexy but instead came off as amusing, drew their attention away from their lunches and onto the speaker. Mid-height, well-muscled, dressed in jeans and a white wife-beater…even without the shaved head and small ‘88’ tattooed on his neck they would have known he was Empire. He couldn’t have been more stereotypical if he had tried, except perhaps by tattooing a giant swastika across the top of his bald skull._ “Mind if I join you for a second?”

 

               “Charlotte?”  _Her name being spoken by Her King was all Charlotte needed for permission to respond, and she theatrically looked him up and down before responding._

 

               “I don’t think so. I’m allergic to stupid, dust, and mold, and you reek of all three.”  _She sneered in response, ignoring the slight gasp from those in earshot as she did what was considered suicidal: insulting a shot-caller to their face, IN PUBLIC no less. Shit was about to hit the fan, they knew._

 

_They were right, shit was about to hit the fan, but they were wrong about how and who._

 

“Hey…!”  _the skinhead started, but Charlotte steam-rolled him ruthlessly._

 

“I’ll go in reverse order, shall I? You smell like mold because, like mold, you and your ilk can only exist in the dark, wet shadows where the sun doesn’t shine to burn you away. Like mold, you are a filthy, dirty thing that feeds on decay and is found disgusting by virtually everyone.”  _The Jewess counted the points off on her fingers as she continued._ “You smell like dust because you blindly follow a set of ideals that is defunct. Nazism had its chance and it failed hard, just like it deserved to, but you and those like you cling to it still rather than accept responsibility for yourselves.”

 

               “There is plenty of evidence…”  _the skinhead cut her off hotly, surprising almost everyone around as he tried to fight back with logic rather than vitriolic rhetoric, and Charlotte was tempted for a moment to let him finish his sentence…but only for a moment._

 

               “Yes, yes, certain demographics are responsible for higher percentages of crime. So fucking what? Judge people for what they actually do! Instead of hating everyone for what they  _might_  do, judge those who deserve it when they deserve it.”  _She flapped a hand in dismissive irritation, familiar with the line to argument._ “As I was saying, you smell stupid because you actually thought that coming over here would get you anywhere other than burned.”

 

_To drive the point home, she pulled her Star out from under her shirt and waved it in his face, internally wondering how he had missed, forgotten, or ignored that she had worn it in plain sight frequently since the school year had started. His face tightened and he spat out a word that bared no repeating, getting much louder gasps from the onlookers and an expression of loathing from Charlotte, her hands balling into white-knuckled fists._

 

“Enough, Charlotte. You’ve made our position clear. Don’t waste any more time on him.”  _Taylor nearly barked as her Pawn made to punch the skinhead, getting a tsk of annoyance in response as Charlotte obeyed, the skinhead slinking back to his compatriots sullenly._

 

“So do you hate all members of the Empire, or do you only hate those who wronged you specifically?”  _Sierra, who had been sitting with them, usually silently, for nearly a week at this point asked. When charlotte mutely responded with a shaken head, Sierra tilted her head to the side. “Why not? As a Jew, you would and will be one of their prime targets. Shouldn’t you hate them for their beliefs and what their ideological predecessors did?”_

 

“I used to, but I realized that not all of them are bad people. I’m sure there are plenty of people in the Empire who are there for money or protection that don’t give to shits about racial purity, and I can guarantee there are people in the gang who joined because it was the only way to survive in prison. The kids our age, especially, if they went to juvie more than once or for a long time.”  _She shrugged philosophically as she pulled her lunch tray back towards her and began to eat again.”_

 

Yes, Taylor remembered that day quite well, and she reminded herself again to have Charlotte begin researching a method of reproducing (even if only to a lesser degree) the binding rings that she wore even now. The damage that could have been caused by Charlotte punching the skinhead full force would have, though lesser than if Taylor had done it, nonetheless been rather debilitating. A broken jaw, at the very least, and suspension for Charlotte. Provoked or not, she would have been punished in an effort to keep the tentative peace.

 

Besides, if they were able to modify them to block parahuman powers, powerful capes busting themselves out of prison wouldn’t be quite so common as it was nowadays. Granted, the same end could be achieved by more competency and planning on the part of the Protectorate and the PRT, like  _using teleporting Movers to take prisoners to the entrance of the Birdcage_ , but she supposed expecting such a thing was a forlorn hope. Otherwise, it would have been done already, because  _surely_  someone else had come up with the idea before her!

 

Ah, well. Ruminating on all that was wrong with the world would take a lifetime, and while she didn’t  _need_  sleep like she used to, dealing with her ‘fellow students’ tomorrow would be a hell of a lot easier with proper rest.

 

####################################################################

 

Madison glanced at her watch, confirming the time, before looking expectantly towards the front doors of Winslow. As if on cue, the Holy Trinity walked in, just as they had without fail ever since that first day. Without fail, just as they had that day and every day since, the crowd of students parted before them with looks of lust, admiration, and calculation in their eyes. Which was the dominant emotion, no one could really tell, but for herself she knew it was admiration. They made it look so  _easy_ , being the center of attention, being the perfect students and the school idols amongst the girls.

 

She wanted what they had. She wanted that confidence, that poise, that admiration and respect. She wanted the courage to insult an Empire member, and the reputation that ensured they couldn’t retaliate. She wanted to be more than the cute sidekick, if she could, but more than anything what she wanted was to survive. Survive long enough to get out of this God-forsaken city to someplace with a smaller death toll. Someplace that lacked cape insurance not because of the guaranteed loss the company would take, but because it wasn’t necessary. If she was able to leave with people she liked, all the better, but she wasn’t going to die here as another barely-noticed casualty of Brockton Bay’s feudalism.

 

Expression bright with a cheerfulness that wasn’t  _entirely_  feigned, she bounced her way towards the trio, ready for another day of carefully ingratiating herself with women as smart and as cunning as she was.

 

Sophia Hess, likewise, was carefully watching the approaching group. She had at first been afraid that Madison had been corrupted and controlled as Emma and Charlotte had, but as the trio interacted with her it became clear that though her company was tolerated or even enjoyed she was still something of an outsider. Sophia herself was treated with rather warmer feelings, she could tell that much, as was Sierra, despite the fact that the dread-locked redhead spent little time talking. Her typical ‘caution’ (which anyone else would call paranoia, though it was arguably justified given the shitty city she lived in) resulted in a heart clenched in fear, fear that Hebert had know she was a parahuman and was trying to  _collect_  her. When she actually though about it, though, especially after Charlotte’s little rant to the Empire prick at lunch, she guessed it had more to do with how little she and Sierra cared about the trio’s looks or popularity.

 

Which didn’t mesh all that well with the whole ‘evil Master trying to collect thralls’ thing, but that was easily excused by Hebert trying to keep a low profile. After all, if  _everyone_  she came in contact with started fawning over her and doing whatever she told them to, she would quickly get found out by the PRT and neutralized. Sophia was flexible, she could change her preconceptions based on new information.

 

The irony and utter lack of self-awareness from that line of thought would escape her for some time to come yet, perhaps for the rest of her life.

 

For the moment, however, she mentally and emotionally squared herself before walking over to join them, a rather natural-looking smile on her face. Greetings were exchanged and niceties dispensed with fairly quickly.  
               “So, did you guys hear about the ‘Mysterious Healer’ yet?” Madison asked eagerly as they traversed the halls towards their homerooms, ignoring those around them with aplomb.

 

               “I did. Was trawling around on PHO when the first thread was posted.” Sophia responded after The Trio responded in the negative, a small and pleased smile on her face as she recalled and explained the details. “Some prick new kid for the ABB couldn’t handle some backtalk from the Empire store his group was robbing and shot her a couple times. Someone showed up and healed her to perfect shape before taking out the bangers a hundred yards away or so. Witnesses don’t remember a thing, security cameras only show a small blur where the person was standing, and the cops didn’t find so much as a hair. No one has taken credit, and it wasn’t Panacea either.”

 

               “Let’s hope that the Empire doesn’t have a super-healer on their side, Othala makes things hard enough when it comes to fighting them.” Emma grumbled, getting emphatic noises of agreement from the entire group. The Empire power-booster couldn’t provide the level of healing that panacea could, but regeneration, super-strength, invulnerability, and the rest of the host of benefits she could bestow were still plenty problematic for the heroes. Though Sophia couldn’t help but wonder why there was a glint of amusement in the trios’ eyes. If not for Charlotte being who and what she was, she might have assumed they were Empire sympathizers, but that possibility had been butchered quite handily more than once. “Of course, I think if they did they would be screaming it from the rooftops and expanding territory. Kaiser might be subtler than Lung or Skidmark, but he loves the spotlight all the same.”

 

And wasn’t that the truth. Kaiser had a great deal of love for theatrics and grandiose gestures of the Public Relations nature, something that set him apart from his deceased father and sister. He didn’t have the same stage presence that the great orators such as Hitler had possessed, but he wasn’t particularly inept either. Something that was acknowledged with no small amount of irritation and regret by anyone not loyal to him, as these same theatrical gestures were what tended to recruit the most people. Not terribly surprising, since everyone wanted to be a part of something ‘greater’ than themselves. An overarching cause, a purpose, that helped to give their life meaning. Sadly, all to many people chose a purpose that was unworthy of their, or anyone’s, devotion.

 

               “Well, it would be really nice if the city could get some new heroes. We need all the help that we can get around here!” Charlotte remarked cheerfully with a philosophical air as they split up to go to their various homerooms.

 

############################################################

 

               “…Panacea checked the victim and the rest of the witnesses out, and as far as she can tell they were never injured at all from a medical stand point. All of them submitted to the mandatory 72 hour Master/Stranger protocols with little argument, although several of them voiced displeasure about the assumption that this ‘Mysterious Healer’ is a villain.” Collin Wallis, better known as the Tinker-class Parahuman Armsmaster reported to his immediate superior, Protectorate/Parahuman Response Teams East-North-East Director Emily Piggot. Though his voice would have sounded monotone to anyone not familiar with him, the other inhabitants of the room  _were_ , and as such could hear the disapproval and mild irritation there.

 

               “No one likes to see their heroes tarnished, and I think The Healer, whoever she is, certainly qualifies for these people. I think its pretty obvious she is an aspiring Hero, because any of the gangs would be crowing about having such a powerful asset joining them, and it is hardly heroic to ambush a robbery/attempted murder, heal their victim, and leave without taking any property.” Hana Washington, aka the Blaster icon and hero to young girls everywhere Miss Militia, responded with a definitive note of censure in her voice. As one of the original Wards and a far more personable person she really ought to hold the position of Head of the ENE Ward Program, but she preferred to focus her energies into being a hero rather than advancing in rank or standing.

 

               “I wouldn’t mind another Panacea running around either, but I think planning for the worst case scenario would be the best choice.” The Director interjected firmly, slightly over-stating her appreciation for the situation. She might, with good reason, be distrustful of parahumans. She might even, she was willing to admit, be a bit of a bigot. That did not, however, blind her to the reality that Panacea alone had dropped fatalities in the city and at Endbringer fights by nearly forty percent. Another person with her powerset, or one close enough to it to have the same benefits, could save literally countless lives.

 

That didn’t mean she wasn’t going to create contingencies just in case this newcomer turned out to be a less-than-heroic individual. It did mean that she didn’t want to listen to another, extremely courteous and polite but ultimately long-winded, argument between these two.

 

               “Of course, Director.” The pair murmured with slight nods of acceptance, and she hummed in both approval and thought.

 

               “Armsmaster, try and clear up that surveillance footage if you can. Bring Dragon in if you have to, but I want it either cleared up or potential methods for countering whatever caused the effect within the next forty-eight hours. Militia, I want you to brief the Wards first thing in the morning. If they come across this ‘Mysterious Healer’ I want them to observe and  _not_  make contact without a senior member of the Protectorate, in case she turns out to be a villain.”

 

Their orders and their dismissal received, the two parahumans withdrew and left her to her thoughts, thoughts that were controlled despite the haste with which they moved. She had spent far to much time in the field to not be wary of sudden and drastic changes to the status quo, which this was guaranteed to do. It was imperative that she got a handle on the situation, and hopefully the parahuman in question, as soon as possible. Without an entire family of powerful parahumans to protect her, as Panacea had, the gangs would fight over her like starving dogs over a meat shank. The Unwritten Rules would either be subtly subverted or outright ignored, the desire for such a powerful healer being more than enough of an impetus to override the normal caution. If this was mishandled or went poorly, Brockton Bay could turn into a true warzone.

 

##########################################################################


	6. Chapter Five

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Kayden Russel, formerly Kayden Anders, grimaced slightly as Oni Lee teleported again, her energy blasts carving a swathe of melted and shattered pavement instead of hitting her rapidly moving target. That was the problem with fighting high-tier movers like Lee. No matter how hard you tried, you would miss more often than not and cause collateral damage on a near-constant basis. Something she _really_ didn’t need to have happening, because it was hard enough trying to convince people she had turned over a new leaf when she _wasn’t_ costing taxpayers thousand of dollars in street and structural damage.

It certainly didn’t help that the PRT (and she knew it had to be them) were suppressing any posts that painted her in a positive light, claiming that they started flaming wars. And, granted, people did tend to get a little abrasive with one another on such threads, but not nearly, or as routinely, as the PHO admins claimed. And, given how often the threads got shut down within minutes of being posted…well, they could have been less obvious about the censorship, that was for sure. Obviously, the feds were still sore about her refusing to bow to their whims and join up with them. Just because she didn’t support Kaiser and his insane ideology anymore didn’t mean that she thought the government was much better. Especially not since they could, and would, try to use Aster and Theo as tools to control and influence her behavior, which she had no willingness whatsoever to tolerate.

She had known, of course, that ‘rebranding’ would be no simple feat. It wasn’t easy to go from a well-known and oft-feared flying artillery of the USA’s biggest (parahuman equipped) white supremacy to an independent hero. Especially given that she still only attacked the ABB and the Merchants, with some people insisting that if she had really gone straight she would attack her old comrades. Which was ludicrous and showed their inability to think beyond themselves, because she obviously wasn’t going to _pick a fight with the people who knew her secret identity!_ Above and beyond the fact that they had been her friends and comrades for nearly a decade, it would be tantamount to suicide to have Kaiser and Co. actively moving against her! Still, despite the immensity of her strength preventing her from falling victim to the typical independent parahuman statistic, every day was nothing short of a struggle to keep her family and her burgeoning career afloat. Sometimes she wanted to quit, to just be a mother and forget about all of this, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t just throw her hands up in the air and say ‘fuck it’, she couldn’t prove Kaiser’s condescending assurances that her place ‘under’ him (the inuendo had been clear, if veiled) would be open when she ‘came to her senses.’

 _That_ wasn’t going to happen, certainly not after a comment such as the one he had made. One more example that he had wanted her body and her power, nothing more. Well she was wiser now, no longer young and stupid, and she wasn’t going to make the same mistakes she had back then. The only decent thing that came from meeting the bastard was Aster…admittedly a very good thing that made it all worth it.

Another clone popping into view in front of her had her quickly flying away and lashing out with her power, obliterating half of the grenades on its bandoleer before they could actually detonate and escaping the danger zone of the rest. Looking around, she saw with something resembling satisfaction that Oni Lee was nowhere in sight. Obviously, he had given the battle up as a bad job and retreated before she got lucky and actually landed a hit on him. Even if he survived, he would probably be crippled and no longer a threat to the city and its people.

Looking around, she located the building where the innocent bystanders of the hour had taken refuge from the fighting and floated down towards it, a triumphant smile on her face. Not that they could see it, of course, thanks to the blinding (and more importantly, facial feature obscuring) glow of her empowered state. She’d help them out of the building, make her usual speech and inquiries about their health, and head home to get some sleep before work. Granted, she worked from home as often as possible, but that didn’t make her need less sleep than anyone else. Especially not since she was also a single mother to a baby, which wasn’t exactly conducive to long and uninterrupted nights of sleep.

                “You should be safe now, it looks like Lee decided discretion was the better part of valour and retreated. Is anyone hurt badly?” she asked kindly, gesturing for the civilians to come outside, leading to tentative steps and fruitive glances. A chorus of shaken heads and negative responses had her nodding in pleasure, glad to have prevented personal damages if nothing else. She had more than enough injuries and yes, even deaths, on her conscience. Though nothing deliberate or particularly _prosecutable_. Cocking her head, she flapped a hand towards the east, where the Atlantic Ocean lay, and from which she could hear approaching sirens. “It sounds like the Protectorate and BBPD are almost here, so I’ll be heading…”

                “Look out…!” one of the civilians, a young black girl that couldn’t have been older than the mid teens, shouted in horror, and she turned around as several ominous metallic clicks echoed. Her eyes widened at the sight of not one, not two, but _three_ Oni Lee clones arming their grenades. She surged her power, each hand pointing towards a clone and shining with light, but it was fruitless. She could certainly hit or even destroy two of the clones, but their grenades could still detonate and the third would be left unmolested. Blazing energy lanced from her hands and blasted clear through her targets, and she started to shift towards the third, but it was to late. Grenades bounced, rolled, or fell towards her, and she had a brief moment of sorrow and helplessness. Her precious children would be doomed to their father’s grasp, their lives ruined from the very beginning. If only she had been stronger…

_Two monstrous beings, enormous and eternal, spiraling around…_

Explosions shattered the horrified silence, the blast front and fragmentary shards flying in what seemed like slow motion towards the victims they would soon flay and kill, who raised their arms in futile defense, parents embracing children and turning to shield them…only for the pain and death to never arrive. They opened their eyes and stared in awe at the golden dome of light that was rippling like water from the points where the blasts had hit it. A golden dome of light emanating from the upraised hand of an angel.

Oh, it was no exaggeration, no case of metaphor born of gratitude. There she, and it was clearly a she, stood: in the midst of them, appearing without a sound or fanfare. Dressed in tight-fitting charcoal pants and top, large and graceful raven’s black wings spread wide. The dome faded away, her hand returning to her side, and she spoke.

                “Be not afraid, for I have come to preserve your lives and to keep you whole. Solace, Artificer” Her voice was soft, warm, and gentle as the summer breeze, and two more angels appeared beside her, kneeling respectfully at her summons. “Protect the civilians and Purity. I shall deal with Oni Lee.”

                “By Your Command.” The pair responded in unison, inclining their heads before rising to obey. A gesture from Solace had a golden dome, so like that of the first angel’s, coalescing around them. Artificer, whose name only a fraction of the bystanders understood to mean she was a Craftsman or Tinker of some sort, drew a one-handed Warhammer from her belt, a golden disk on her left forearm spiraling outwards to become a hopolon shield. Taking up what was clearly a defensive position, she hover protectively as her companion began to inquire after wounds from the cluster of scared and awed people. Purity, meanwhile, elected to follow as the apparent leader of the trio took to the air, effortlessly soaring into the night sky and gazing around for the suicide-bombing Asian cape.

                “He’s not going to be an easy target, especially for a fresh Cape.” She warned the younger woman, who couldn’t be much older than fourteen or fifteen, and she got a small smirk of confidence in response. It was strange, she mused to herself, that she couldn’t focus on the other’s facial features. They were there, she could see them, but it was like she couldn’t _keep_ them in her mind. Some sort of Stranger effect, obviously, to conceal her identity. Useful, very useful.

                “I’m not concerned with the likes of Oni Lee. I’m surprised that he mustered the courage to attack you again, he is not known for long-term engagements without Lung to protect him.” The girl’s tone was dismissive, almost amused, and Purity witnessed good evidence for such confidence when a flick of the girl’s wrist summoned a spear-like shard of golden light that lanced towards the ground to their left, obliterating the clone left behind by a surprised Oni Lee. “Hmm, I suppose it makes sense he can avoid my Spears if your blasts cannot touch him.”

As the sirens grew closer, the girl raised her voice. Though she did not shout, it boomed and echoed through the streets, an odd and ethereal layered effect adding weight to her words. Another spear of light appeared beside her, floating without visible influence or movement of gravity.

                **_“How quickly you can run, Oni Lee, slave of Lung? How quickly do you run from a foe you cannot murder or overwhelm. How quickly you would sacrifice innocent lives for the sake of injuring a single opponent. But, how quickly can you run from me? How long can you avoid my Light? You can avoid a single Spear, but can you avoid ten? A hundred? A thousand?”_** with each named amount, the number of spears increased until they could not be counted. Kayden looked on with wide, awe-struck and yes, fearful, eyes as the girl tilted her head back and smiled rapturously. **_“It’s time for a carnival!”_**

Showing astonishing alacrity and wisdom, Oni Lee responded to these statements, and the very obvious and very physical threat hanging over his head, by vacating the premises. Rapidly, and without a single look back.

                “Well, that’s that then.” The girl said in a more normal voice, the spears fading away instantly, leaving Kayden to stare at her in confusion. Had it all been a bluff, or did she actually possess the ability to bombard the ABB villain until one of them finally struck the real Lee? “Come, let’s get back to the ground.”

Thoroughly bemused but deeply grateful for the intervention, Kayden drifted down after her savior, wondering how to even phrase the countless questions swirling through her mind. Who was this girl, and her friends? What was with their appearances, and what powers did they have? Changer for the wings, Blaster for the spears and Stranger for the concealment of their identities…were they Trumps? An entire group of Trumps?

They touched down within the perimeter of the bubble-shield, moments before the police and PRT roared onto the scene. A gesture from the leader had Solace dropping the protective shield, the light fading away and leaving more than one person blinking from the abrupt change of brightness.

#############################################################

Armsmaster pushed his bike, heavily modified as it was, to the absolute limit as he (Miss Militia pressed against his back) and Dauntless raced for the section of the city which Purity and Oni Lee had chosen for their latest destructive attempt to bring the other down. Destructive and, if it was anything like the previous battles, rather expensive to repair.

The call had come in not long after the pair had engaged one another, made by a frantic store-owner whose property at least a dozen other civilians had taken refuge in the minute they spotted the parahumans squaring off. A wise decision, but unfortunately one that left them stranded in the danger zone of a duel between two of the most collateral-damage-prone villains on the Eastern Seaboard. And they _were_ villains. So long as they didn’t work for the Protectorate, they were the enemy, as far as he was concerned.

The soft thunder of grenades detonating grew louder rapidly, interspersed with the high-pitched humming sound of Purity’s energy blasts. It wouldn’t be easy, dealing with the pair of them at once, but he and Militia could chase Lee off quickly enough while Dauntless kept Purity busy. It was hardly the first time they had done this, after all, and (despite his hopes to the contrary) was guaranteed not to be the last.

There was a final cascade of explosions, and his head rose in surprise as a winged figure rose above the roofs before them moments later, Purity trailing after them. His first thought was that it was the Simurgh, but he brushed the absurd idea away immediately. The stranger wasn’t big enough, for one thing, and for another Dragon would have informed him if the Endbringer’s were moving out of sequence. One eyebrow twitched in a vaguely upward direction at the apparent Blaster capabilities of this newcomer, but his eyes widened as their-her-voice filled the air…along with a veritable cloud of similar projectiles. A cloud that his HUD tried to flag and calculate the numbers of, but game up somewhere in the triple digits.

He could feel Miss Militia’s tension as they screeched to a halt and dismounted, her power manifesting itself in a carbine that she held in a nonthreatening posture. He knew full well how quickly she could bring it to bear on a target, however, so it was hardly a vulnerable gesture on her part. Merely a diplomatic one. Looking around at the various individuals arrayed before him, he folded his hands behind his back and adopted a picture-perfect posture of command. The civilians all appeared in good shape, but they had little to do with him regardless. They were the duty of the paramedics and the regular troopers, not himself, and so his gaze was focused on the parahumans present.

Purity’s continued presence was surprising, but only mildly so. She occasionally stayed behind to give her version of events, usually from an altitude where they could not make any sort of attempt to capture her, but for her to be lingering on the ground and without her trademark energy cloaking her hands was an opportunity he couldn’t rightfully ignore. Both hands flashed forward again, smoothly detaching and priming a pair of containment foam grenades that flew threw the air towards the surprised flying Blaster, and the Simurgh-esque parahuman beside her. Said grenades failed utterly when one of the other two smashed them into bits in midair with her Warhammer.

                “How very rude of you, Armsmaster, to throw things at a lady you’ve only just met. I would have thought that you would possess better manners than that, but perhaps some of the more colorful rumors about your abrasiveness are not merely flights of fancy.” The stranger next to Purity hummed in what seemed to be a mixture of chastisement and amusement. She, and her two companions, were very clearly female and were dressed in clothes that (while entirely decent) nonetheless would be considered sensual or eye-catching by most people. “I see that the PRT has finally arrived, after the fighting was concluded and the civilians safely secured. How _wonderful_ to meet you, Miss Militia. Dauntless.”

The final sentence was, by all accounts, entirely genuine. Neither this nor the fact that he had only be addressed by way of insult escaped Armsmaster’s notice, and he scowled slightly at the slights to his image. He was opening his mouth to deliver condemnations and veiled threats in response when Militia stepped forward, her rifle now a holstered pistol.

                “I presume we have you to thank for forcing Oni Lee’s withdrawal before anyone was hurt too badly?” the Kurdish-American’s voice was calm and kind, genuine gratitude suffusing every syllabal, and the girl responded with a hum of acknowledgement and a dipped head.

                “Indeed. We witnessed Purity attempt to drive Oni Lee away, and intervened when he moved to attack her as she tried to send the civilians to safety. I offered to continue the battle in her place, but he seemed to think that it was neither necessary nor wise.” Came the verbal response, before the girl smiled. “Ah, but where are my manners? You may call me Seraphim, and with me are two of my Companions: Artificer and Solace. It was Solace who healed what injuries the rest of the people suffered.”

                “You’re the ones that have been going around performing heroics and messing with the memories of any witnesses. Hell, you’re doing it right now.” Dauntless observed, and Artificer tsked at him.

                “Language, if you please. There are minors present, and we shouldn’t want another one of the greatest heroes in the city to set a poor example for courtesy, would we?” she chided him, and Armsmaster’s mouth tightened at the second insult in as many minutes. It was beginning to grate on his nerves, especially in front of the Trump/Striker he considered the greatest threat to his own advancement in the ranks. “And you make it sound so _villainous_ , to hide our identities. Simply because we do it with spell-craft rather than masks or helmets does not mean it is all that different.”

                “Magic isn’t real.” The Tinker responded automatically, a faint note of derision in his tone as he effectively lectured them. “Magic is nothing more than technological or natural effects that are not fully understood by humanity’s grasp of science.”

                “And religion is nothing more than the crutch of the weak and foolish, I suppose?” Solace’s voice was deeply amused, and almost pitying, and all three shook their heads at him together. “Believe what you wish, but the truth of the matter will be revealed to you soon enough. Now, if you will excuse us…?”

                “You need to come in. Not only are you new and unknown parahumans in my jurisdiction, but you are minors and should join the Wards program.” His voice was blunt, ignoring the soft groan/sigh that emanated from Hana. “There is of course also the matter of you aiding and abetting a known and wanted villain.”

With most underaged vigilantes, the implicit threat (that they would join the Wards or be prosecuted and labelled as villains) would have been enough, combined with his reputation, to bring the trio into line and to cow them into obedience. Thus, when the trio did nothing but giggle in response, he found himself somewhat caught off guard.

                “We’ve committed no crime but that of self-defense, given that those grenades you threw would have caught me in their blast radius as well as Purity. Naturally, Artificer would move to defend me from an unjustified and underhanded attempt at illegal imprisonment. She is quite loyal, you see.” Seraphim’s tone was rather condescending, he had to admit, but neither that nor her logical argument was going to dissuade him.

                “Regardless of circumstance, you intervened directly in the defense of a known villainous parahumans…”

                “I quit the Empire a long time ago, Armsmaster, something you are well aware of after the five failed attempts to recruit me into the Protectorate.” Purity bit out coldly, folding her arms over her chest and (doubtlessly) giving him quite the dark look. “The fact that I don’t want to become a government lap-dog and sycophant like you doesn’t mean I’m still a villain!"

There was a long moment of shocked silence, before Seraphim giggled lightly to herself, a giggle that soon became full blown laughter, and everyone in the vicinity found themselves smiling unconsciously as an aura of warm, bright joy washed over them.

                “Father above! I do believe that she has something of a bone to pick with you, Armsmaster. A bit harsh, perhaps, but then she is entitled to her own opinions. I will admit my own image of the PRT is not what it was when things first began.” she said when her hilarity died down, shaking her head again. She sobered rapidly, though, as she continued. “Regardless of _your_ desires, the fact of the matter is that Purity nearly died protecting these people from Oni Lee. She will be allowed to leave here in peace. Arrest her at another time and place, if you can manage it.”

The air filled with tension. A gauntlet had been thrown down, and the civilians began backing away as the two groups of parahumans stared each other down, neither side quite willing to make the first move and turn a verbal confrontation into a physical one. For the Protectorate (mostly Armsmaster), the idea of engaging three unknown parahumans, one of whom obviously possessed the ability to summon a massive number of exploding energy projectiles, was rather unpalatable. Militia didn’t want to alienate potential allies, and while Dauntless agreed he also wanted to duel with Artificer. He saw in her something of a kindred spirit, in that they both seemed to focus on items.

For the trio of Grigori, despite their distrust and dislike for the Protectorate (born as it was from their misgivings over various policies and decisions made by its Directors), avoiding conflict would certainly be preferable. It would be a rather larger dampener on their plans of heroism to get labeled as villains over this. Well, mostly, as a part of Emma thought that it would enhance the story and the intrigue of their faction to be labeled as villains for protecting Purity in this situation. Everyone loved a good ‘Robin Hood’ story, after all, and what was more enthralling than the band of heroes labeled as villains by the establishment for acting honorably?

Sadly, the epic she was weaving in her mind was not to be. Armsmaster, clearly deciding that this engagement was not worth it (especially not in front of witnesses!), _tsked_ in irritation and nodded his head in agreement. It seemed they had an accord, at least for the moment, and as the law enforcement and paramedics were waved forward to the civilians’ sides the unaffiliated capes took to the sky.

                “We’re reporting to the Director first thing in the morning.” was all the ranking cape said after their departure. His subordinates nodded with varying degrees of enthusiasm, fully aware of how poorly things could go depending on how the events of the last 15 minutes were presented.

####################################################################

                “So, did you actually leave the Empire, or did I just put our burgeoning reputation on the line for the sake of a liar?” Seraphim asked her very nearly the instant they were out of earshot, and Purity couldn’t help but smile within the safety of her blinding light. Perhaps the girl felt confident given her display of power and the fact she and her companions outnumbered Purity, but it was refreshing (and amusing) to encounter such blunt, frank honesty. Most people were too terrified of her or her former associates to do anything approaching such a thing, if they weren’t just trying to kill or arrest her instead.

                “I left the Empire some time ago, yes. I joined up for reasons I long since regret allowing to shape my decisions and have had little cause to regret my departure. In truth, the only regret I have is that my choices led younger, more innocent souls down an unfortunate path.” She responded honestly, though she displayed a definitive disinterest in expanding further on the last few words. “I’m impressed by your skills, I must admit, and your foresight to hide your identity. Most new parahumans, heroes especially, tend to act brashly and get killed or press-ganged quickly.”

                “Fortune favours the bold, but chance favours the prepared and the wise.” Came the even, and rather mature, response. Despite herself, Purity was both surprised and impressed. They were just teens, kids really, but they certainly didn’t seem to act like it. A case of this city aging its youth all to quickly, once again? She was further shocked by Seraphim’s next words. “Have you any advice, one experienced independent hero to one who would prefer to live longer than three months?”

                “Don’t punch above your weight.” Was the immediate and instinctive answer, before her mind recovered enough from the shock of _being asked for advice on being a hero_ to elaborate. “I’m not saying you’re weak, obviously, but even a Blaster ability like yours won’t put down someone like Lung or Kaiser for long. Kaiser’s armor is harder than titanium, and Lung is…Lung.”

                “Indeed.” Artificer’s dry tone had the entire group laughing softly, before Purity continued.

                “Always have places you can hide, always have places you can heal, and always have a plan for getting outed. It’s against The Rules for capes to do it, but all it takes is your little Stranger effect dropping in front of one fool with a camera phone, and your life is over. Never, _ever_ forget that The Rules are a _game_. They exist for a reason, a damn good reason, but the truth is that those with the power and the cause to ignore them do so as and when they wish.”

                “Good advice.” Solace hummed softly, and Purity absently noted that the trio seemed to spend very little time flapping their wings, and what flaps they did make were utterly silent, like an owl. The sound of a phone ringing interrupted their discussion, and three heads turned to look at Artificer as she pulled a cell phone out of her pocket and answered it.

                “Yes…? Mom? Yeah, everything’s fine, we’re heading home now…no mom, we… _no_! God, mom, _please stop talking._ Be home soon, love you, bye!”

Purity might not have much experience with teenaged children yet, outside of Rune and more recently Theo, and she might not be able to see her flying companion’s faces, but her ‘mother senses’ were tingling. Whatever Artificer’s mother had been saying to her had been deeply embarrassing, but in a teasing way as opposed to a hurtful way.

                “I don’t want to know. I am pretty sure I _do_ know, but I don’t want to.” Solace said firmly and promptly, getting an embarrassed giggle from the other girl as she tucked her phone away. Shaking her head at her companions’ antics, Seraphim turned her attention back to Purity.

                “If you don’t mind, I’d like to give you my PHO. If you really are an independent hero, I’d like to be able to ask you for advice, and perhaps we can coordinate our efforts to accomplish larger things than a few thugs being jailed.”

                “I’m perfectly willing to do that, I was actually going to offer that myself. I don’t want you girls to become part of the statistic either.” Kayden responded with a smile of genuine pleasure, glad not only to help them but also by their obvious lack of disgust in her. It was… _nice_ not to be ostracized as Purity, nice to not be treated as scum or a traitor. The exchange of information was quick and easy, the group splitting up immediately thereafter.

As she flew over the city towards her home, Kayden couldn’t help but think she had just met some very special people.

##################################################

                “Lung-sama!” the sound of his chief subordinate’s somewhat frantic voice drew the attention of Kenta Hideyoshi fairly quickly, as the man himself very nearly burst into the room. Though little caused the legendary Dragon of Kyushu to feel anything other than anger or apathy after so many years of decadence, he could admit to some irritation and curiosity in regards to Oni Lee’s interruption.

                “Speak, Oni Lee. Why do you disturb me?” he rumbled, tone more even that angry, though a hint of danger lurked within it. Danger that was all to familiar to any of his subordinates, a note of warning: ‘You’re treading on very thin ice.’

                “I was patrolling our territory when I encountered Purity, Great Dragon, and engaged her in battle. After some time, I tricked her into believing that I had fled, in the hopes that she would lower her guard and allow me to make a decisive strike.” Lee reported, and Lung tilted his head in consideration. Dishonorable, perhaps, but when dealing with someone of Purity’s strength one should claim what advantages one could. And honor had mattered far less to him since he had tried and failed to save his homeland from the Monster of the Seas. “It worked, and I would have dealt with her permanently if not for these…strangers. They had wings like angels, Lung-sama, and they could summon shields of light to block my grenades. And their leader, she could summon hundreds of light-spears that explode when they hit the ground! It was all I could do to flee, but I lingered close enough to overhear them stand against the Protectorate for the sake of Purity!”

                “Hrm…” imperceptible to his suicide-bombing lieutenant, Lung’s eyes sharpened and narrowed at the explanation he had just received. So, new parahumans had entered the field on behalf of Purity? Or was it simply a matter of prioritizing defeating Oni Lee? He was far more inclined to believe the latter, certainly, as Oni Lee was well-known for causing significant collateral damage. Still, he had certainly never put too much stock in the idea that Purity had abandoned the Empire. For one thing, she hadn’t even tried to change her name. For another, she never once tried to stop any Empire crimes from occurring.

Of course, in the end, it was irrelevant. They had attacked the ABB, and by doing so they had become as much his enemies as the E88 were. Their cause, their loyalties, their reasons…none of it mattered to him, and he knew it would matter even less to those who served him. They did as he commanded, no more and no less. They would be confronted, defeated, and (if it proved necessary or convenient) slain. They, like everyone else in this miserable shit-hole of a city, were ants before him. Mildly interesting if one bothered to observe them, mildly irritating to exterminate, but ultimately an existence far beneath his own.

Most aumsignly, at least to a third party, his most hated opponent and rival was thinking something very similar in his penthouse apartment on the other side of the city. If either of them had known, they would have been disgusted and furious, but alas such ironies would forever be lost to them.

Max Anders was not a name or a face that would ever be considered for the supervillain known as Kaiser. The rich, successful, and generous owner of Medhall, with its many minority employees, couldn’t possibly be in any way affiliated with the largest and most influential American white supremacist group since the Ku Klux Klan! The very idea was absurd!

Which, of course, was exactly why his civilian identity would likely never be discovered. No one, not even his ‘trusted’ lieutenants in the Empire, knew that he couldn’t give two shits about racial purity. It wasn’t even that he was meritocratic, he just didn’t really care about anyone or anything that didn’t involve him being greater and more powerful than he has been the day before. Unfortunately, when Kayden had discovered his deceptions, she had abandoned him. She should have been _glad_ to know he wasn’t quite so bad as she had thought he was. She should have been _honored_ to be his wife. Instead, his deception and half-truths had infuriated her, made her feel betrayed. She really should have known better to expect anything more than what he deemed she could receive.  


It was this… _interesting_ view of women in general and Kayden in particular that lead to his next train of thought. Purity, it seemed, had found him something delightfully interesting. A trump and her two minions, if he were to wager a guess. This ‘Seraphim’ could only be a power-gifter of a similar vein (but far greater strength) than his own Othala. Thus the wings and the golden light their powers manifested as, though the fact that they had their _own_ powers in addition to those gifted by their current leader was unique. He had never heard of such a thing happening to the degree that it was here, not short of Eidolon bringing out some of his more esoteric powers. Oh Othala could gift ‘buffs’, certainly, but this was something else entirely.

The problem, of course, was that Kayden was still a bit cross with him. She hadn’t realized where her place was, by his side and unquestioning, quite yet. It was amusing, her reticence, and honestly somewhat arousing. What fun was the hunt if the prey neither fled nor fought? Still, perhaps he had better tug on her leash. Remind her of her true calling, and encourage her to bring these three young women she had met to him. A brief allusion to Aster and Theo should be more than sufficient to cow her again, to bring her into line. She wouldn’t do anything to risk her parenthood, he knew that quite well. He would also, however, have to be careful. Push a mother bear to far, and he might find lasers blasts coming through his windows instead of sunlight.

Perhaps send Rune, first, to ask her to return of her own will? She had always had such a soft spot for the teenaged telekinetic, and was somewhat responsible for Rune even joining the Empire. A genuine and heartfelt plea from a tear-stained face might go much farther than thinly veiled threats from him. He would have to make sure it went his way, perhaps give some ‘advice’ on how Rune should approach the older cape and what should be said. Something to consider, because he had all the time in the world to make this go his way. After all, he had an inside woman.

############################################################

**So next chapter will obviously be interesting! Gonna see some reactions, gonna set some pieces in motion for the next section of this arc, and pretty soon (for AO3 and QQ readers) we’re going to be getting into the first romantic overtures of this story!**

 


	7. PHO Interlude The First

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**♦Topic: Newcomers In The Bay! The Holy Trinity?**

**In: Boards ► United States ► Brockton Bay ► Parahumans ► Unaffiliated**

 

**Bagrat**  (Original Poster) (The Guy In The Know) (Veteran Member)

Posted on March 12, 2011:

 

Well, it looks like our beloved incarnation of chaos has gotten yet another permutation. Three of them, rather, and by permutation I mean 'parahuman'.

 

Around ten P.M. last night, Purity and Oni Lee were having yet another of their epic, taxpayer-draining duels. You all know how it goes: Oni Lee tries to reach Purity but can't because, you know, FLYING. Purity tries to put him down for the count but can't land a solid hit because, you know, TELEPORTER.

 

Lee, by all appearences, eventually scurries off to complain to Lung about the unfairness of it all, and Purity goes to chat with the bystanders, who had taken cover in the nearest store during the fight. Oni Lee, displaying a degree of cunning unexpected (and cowardness fully expected) tried to ambush her with a triple-clone attack while she was distracted with the civilians.

 

She Blasts two of the clones but the third goes off. It looks like the end for the former(?) Empire member, but this...gold shield THING just appeared out of nowhere and absorbed the blast. Next thing you know, three genuine fucking ANGELS were standing there. The obvious leader, who apparently calls herself Seraphim, ordered her companions (Artificer and Solace, Thread to power speculation HERE) to protect the civilians and Purity while she (Seraphim) would 'deal with Oni Lee.'

 

Solace apparently summoned another golden shield and started healing injuries while Artificer pulled and honest to God warhammer off of her belt and looked ready to bash the skulls of anyone who tried to attack the group.

 

Anyway, Purity didn't seem to want to be babysat and she followed Seraphim into the air. First thing she did was throw some sort of golden (that color seems to be a common theme) spear of energy at Oni Lee without even looking at him. He dodged, of course, but she did something to make her voice really loud and threatened him while summoning up a frankly absurd number of the energy spears. He bugged out real quick and then the PRT showed up.

 

Armsie stuck his foot in it, threatened the group over Purity, and got verbally stomped. Seriously, I wont waste time explaining, just watch the videos.

 

{LINK} Purity and Oni Lee fight

{LINK} Holy Trinity Arrives

{LINK} Seraphim scares the fuck outta Lee and trolls the PRT

 

**(Showing Page 2 of 15)**

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> **► UnwieldyWielder**   (Veteran Member)
> 
> Replied on March 12, 2011:
> 
> Well Goddamn! Uh, that is, darn it, I guess?
> 
> Blasphemy in the face of angels aside, Seraphim clearly doesn't fuck around. She seemed perfectly willing to flatten that street if Lee indended to keep fighting.
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> On the one hand, badass. On the other, we have enough collateral-damage prone capes in this city already. We don't need a Purity mk. 2 that can do a Macross Missile Massacre.
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> **► Sothoth**   (Veteran Member)
> 
> Replied on March 12, 2011:
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> I got that reference!
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> 
> I can't really disagree, but how else are you going to beat Oni Lee? He can teleport anywhere in line of sight, right? Seems to me that carpet-bombing an area is the only sure-fire way of taking him out that doesn't include Miss Militia, a BFG, and a mile between them.
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> **► MisterCro**   (Veteran Member) (Cape Groupie) (Power Guru)
> 
> Replied on March 12, 2011:
> 
> Oh for sure, but what I really want to do is try and figure out their power sets! I mean, Seraphim is obviously a Mover/Blaster like Purity, Artificer is obviously a Tinker of some sort (I mean really, her name couldn't be more obvious or blatant a clue) while Solace is a healer.
> 
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> 
> What I don't understand is how they all have the same angel look. Those wings look REAL to me, they're not stylized jetpacks or prop pieces, but how could three different parahumans have such similar powers, or at least PART of their powers manifest the same? Are they Case 53s?
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> **► TinMother**   (Moderator)
> 
> Replied on March 12, 2011:
> 
> Thread on the "Holy Trinity's" powerset can be found here, lets not clutter up this thread with power speculation in addition to everything else.
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>  
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> **► XXXVoid_CowboyXXX**   (Temp-banned)
> 
> Replied on March 12, 2011:
> 
> Who gives a fuck about their powers or Purity, lets talk about the fact that they look like the fucking Simurgh! They're obviously some sort of Ziz Bomb sent here to Brockton Bay to soften us up for her next attack! We have to get rid of them before they corrupt us all!
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> **► Tin Mother**   (Moderator)
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> Replied on March 12, 2011:
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> Language, Void, this isn't knew. I'll tolerate language when its appropriate, but you tend to due it just for the sake of it. As for the rest, I would encourage you NOT to start fear-mongering. There are several obvious visual differences between themselves and The Simurgh, and if they are Case 53s condemning them just for their visual appearence would be a truly horrific way to welcome them to Brockton Bay.
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> **► ClyricalCrystal (Laserdream)**   (Verified Cape) (Cape Daughter) (New Wave)
> 
> Replied on March 12, 2011:
> 
> TinMother is right, hating someone just for the way they look is the Empire's thing, not the rest of our's. They seem to be genuinly heroic, and while I'm obviously not the bigget fan of Purity, I can respect The Trinity's sense of honor in not turning on her after she almost died protecting civilians. It wouldn't be the first time a villain is allowed to walk free in the moment for heroic actions. He-er, heck, we do it every time there is an Endbringer or S-rank Threat fight.
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> I certainly can't endorse their lambasting of the PRT, I won't say some of their concerns are unfair either, especially given the first thing Armsmaster did was chuck ConFoam grenades at them.
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> **► ShoresOfTripolli**
> 
> Replied on March 12, 2011:
> 
> Everything else has been discussed to death and I don't feel the need to add on to it, but I think we should talk about Purity apparently not being Empire anymore, and supposedly for a while? Anyone from The Bay know more about this?
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> **► PhotonMom**   (Verified Cape) (Cape Wife) (New Wave)
> 
> Replied on March 12, 2011:
> 
> Purity hasn't acted in concert with known members of the Empire since late 2009, outside of things like Endbringer fights. However, she hasn't gone after them for any of their crimes, intervened against their attacks, or joined a superhero team since that time. No one really knows what she is up to.
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> **► BitterBolivian**   (Temp-banned) (Muted)
> 
> Replied on March 12, 2011:
> 
> Fuck her, fuck them, and fuck the horse that brought them! Fucking Nazi's don't deserve to breath the same air as the rest of us, and anyone who works with them deserves the same bullet that they do!
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**(Showing Page 3 of 15)**

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> **► TinMother**   (Moderator)
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> Replied on March 12, 2011:
> 
> Promoting and supporting murder of anyone is a bannable offense. This is your first and only warning. Have a two-week ban-and-mute to cool off. Whether you love them or hate them, advocating murder is completly unacceptable.
> 
>  
> 
> **► Solace**   (Verified Cape)
> 
> Replied on March 12, 2011:
> 
> My King, Seraphim, asked Purity why she has refused to attack her former comrades as they left the scene of our intervention the other night, wondering the same things mentioned by PhotonMom.
> 
>  
> 
> Purity's explanations were succint, blunt, and (in hindsight) painfully obvious.
> 
>  
> 
> 1\. Regardless of seperating from their group, these are still people she was friends with for many years. No matter the ideological differences that might have engendered or were the result of this seperation, trying to put your friends in The Birdcage for life is no easy thing to bring one's self to do.
> 
>  
> 
> 2\. She has no interest in working with the PRT, considering them to be just another gang at worst and unwilling (or incapable) of actually helping the city at best.
> 
>  
> 
> 3\. Most importantly, they know who she is. She is obviously unmasked to them, and that means they know her face. They know her family, her friends, her favorite places and food. They know more than enough about her to coerce her support or to punish her for betrayal by destroying everyone and everything she ever loved.
> 
>  
> 
> As long as she doesn't act against them directly, they won't resort to dirty tricks. The minute she actually attacks them, though...
> 
>  
> 
> **► Bagrat**   (Original Poster) (The Guy In The Know) (Veteran Member)
> 
> Replied on March 12, 2011:
> 
> Your King? Isn't Seraphim a woman? Or is this some sort of code thing for you guys?
> 
>  
> 
> **► Solace**   (Verified Cape)
> 
> Replied on March 12, 2011:
> 
> It is something personal, yes, and she is indeed female. We all are, thus far.
> 
>  
> 
> **► Bagrat**   (Original Poster) (The Guy In The Know) (Veteran Member)
> 
> Replied on March 12, 2011:
> 
> Ah...okay, whatever works for you guys, I guess. Anyway, your points about Purity are well made. I certainly wouldn't want Hookwolf knowing where all of MY loved ones were and an axe to grind with me!
> 
>  
> 
> Still, she could have at least changed her name. I mean, c'mon, holding on to Purity just isn't doing her any good! There are plenty of other light-oriented names that she could choose! Starfall, for example!
> 
>  

**End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 ... 13 , 14, 15**

 

 

 

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■

 

**♦Topic: The Holy Trinity Power Speculation**

**In: Boards ► Forums ► United States ► Brockton Bay ► Unaffiliated ► Powers**

 

**Bagrat**  (Original Poster) (The Guy In The Know) (Veteran Member)

Posted on March 12, 2011:

 

So, we add yet another to the pile of threads on Brockton Bay Parahuman power speculation. As you all ought to know, three new parahumans showed up last night in a pretty dramatic way.

 

First we have Seraphim, the apparent leader. I'm thinking at least:

 

 Blaster/Shaker 8, because even if her ligh-spears aren't as powerful as Purity's blasts (though we don't know for sure if she was throwing them around at full power) she can apparently have a shit-tonne of them ready at once.

 

Mover 2, because she can fly with those wings at a pretty good clip, at least from what the video shows.

 

Stranger 1, no one who has seen her can remember any facial features or exactly what her voice sounds like. It looks like its intentional, some sort of perception filter to keep her identity an iron-clad secret.

 

Then we have Artificer:

 

Mover 2, she has the same wings that Seraphim does, and she shows that she (and probably they) are pretty fast when on foot as well.

 

Tinker ?, because we don't really know if her gear is Tinkertech or not. It doesn't LOOK very advanced, but we all know that it doesn't mean crap with Tinkers. Given her name though, its safe to assume that she is in fact a Tinker.

 

Stranger 1, just like Seraphim you can't really tell who she is

 

Finally we have Solace, who is apparently the 'Mysterious Healer' of the last few months. Seems to be the most 'passive' of the group, but if her speciality is healing that makes sense

 

Mover 2 and Stranger 1, just like her friends. Par for the course, apparently.

 

Shaker 4(?), it looks like she can summon barriers that are totally unaffected by (at least) Oni Lee's grenades going off. We've no idea if it can tank anything worse than that, but it seems likely.

 

I'm not really sure how to rate her healing, as she seems to be able to use it both with and without actually touching the person she is healing. The touch would make her a Striker like Panacea, but what would it be without? Blaster? Shaker?

 

Anyway, what do you guys think?

 

 

**(Showing Page 1 of 10)**

>  
> 
> **► ClyricalCrystal (Laserdream)**   (Verified Cape) (Cape Daughter) (New Wave)
> 
> Replied on March 12, 2011:
> 
> From the looks of things, those light-spears hit about as hard as my lasers can, so there is that. I thought that they were Case 53s, but honestly after rewatching the videos and finding some in better quality, I don't think they are. Instead, I would say they all have a Changer power. It wouldn't be the first time that people who were together when they Triggered had similar powers!
> 
>  
> 
> **► Shielder**   (Verified Cape) (Cape Son) (New Wave)
> 
> Replied on March 12, 2011:
> 
> I think that shield is kinda similar to mine. Hard to tell, obviously, but that's just my opinion out of the videos. Honestly, and I hate to disagree with my sister here, but I don't think they are Changer's at all. I think Seraphim is some sort of power-sharing Trump.
> 
>  
> 
> **► PhotonMom**   (Verified Cape) (Cape Wife) (New Wave)
> 
> Replied on March 12, 2011:
> 
> *dryly* Oh, yes, I know my beloved children just HATE arguing with one another. Why, every day of their lives has been nothing but harmony and acting in unison!
> 
>  
> 
> **► ConcernedCitizen**
> 
> Replied on March 12, 2011:
> 
> If she is a Trump, we must not have seen everything she can do. Not a chance the only power she can share is the ability to grow black angel's wings. And why are they black, anyway? Don't angels have white wings?
> 
>  

**End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 8 , 9, 10**

 

 

 

 

 

■

>  
> 
> **BadCanary:**  If you and your friends ever want to talk, online or in person, let me know. You're not the only ones that the PRT and PHO posters think is a Simurgh minion.
> 
> **Solace:**  We'll probably take you up on that, even if only to ask how you handle people like that. I'm afraid we've already had more than a few unpleasant messages sent by come people, and more than a few disturbing posts by those Fallen lunatics.
> 
>  

 

 

########################################

 

**Sorry this took so long to get out despite only being an Interlude, but I've been quite busy. As a note, the Holy Trinity is NOT going to be their long-term cape name. I haven't decided between Grigori (** **loosely** **translated as 'the ones who watch over'), The Peerage, or The Sacred Sixteen. Feel free to tell me what you think in the comments!**

**As a secondary note, anyone who wants to do Omake's or what the hell ever can feel free! I do not mind at all, in fact I would go so far as to request it! Just make sure to let me know in the thread so I can crosspost the Omake between the various platforms!**


	8. Chapter Six

****

################################

“So…why don’t you tell me  _exactly_  what happened. I don’t care what the videos online may or may not show or what you might therefore consider redundant. Tell me  _everything_  that you can recall, starting from the top. Armsmaster, go.”

 

Piggot’s day hadn’t started particularly well, with abdominal pain piled on top of those born of age and injury, her morning dose of Tylanol really only taking the edge off of the pain. She didn’t dare use anything stronger, doctor’s permission or not, lest it inhibit her ability to keep up with the perpetual shitshow that was her sphere of responsibility. When she had arrived at The Rig and been appraised of the basic situation involving three of her top parahumans the night before, her day had gone from bad to worse. PHO had been mildly useful (not that she would ever admit to using it for information and rumor gathering) but ultimately had the potential to be heavily skewed or edited.

 

“At approximately 10 pm last night, reports came in of another battle between the Blaster-class Parahuman known as Purity, and the Mover-class parahuman known as Oni Lee. I deployed immediately on my motorcycle towards the conflict area, with Miss Militia as my passenger and Dauntless flying above us by his own means.” Armsmaster reported mechanically, tone monotonous. “We were two minutes away from the conflict zone when we witnessed the appearance of the Parahuman group under the command of the individual known as Seraphim. She threatened Oni Lee with energy bombardment if he did not retreat, calling his courage into question and casting insults both to himself and to Lung. It is believed that Oni Lee did in fact flee in the face of superior numbers and firepower, leaving the vicinity with haste.”

 

Here Armsmaster paused, doubtlessly giving her a moment to absorb what had just been said, and though it was neither necessary nor desired she felt little need to chastise him. Mostly because it would sidetrack the story, and she could give him grief at the end just as well as the beginning.

 

“It was at this point that the three of us arrived on the scene of the battle, finding the damage to the surrounding area within the usual parameters for such and engagement. A dozen civilians were present, ages 13 to 54, as well as Purity, Seraphim, and two of Seraphim’s followers who were identified as Artificer and Solace. Upon visual confirmation of Purity’s presence, I attempted to deploy containment foam grenades in an effort to secure her for arrest and questioning, per the warrant signed February of 2001.” He paused, either to take a breath or to build for the dramatic reveal. Probably both. “The individual known as Artificer intervened, destroying both grenades with the head of her Warhammer in midair.”

 

“It was at this point that the individual known as Seraphim remarked upon the manner of Armsmaster’s ‘greeting’ and the tardiness of the PRT in its arrival to the combat zone. In order to defuse the situation, I attempted to make conversation with Seraphim, Artificer, and Solace. Seraphim related their intervention’s purpose and timing, and Dauntless noted the fact that they were no doubt the individuals behind the “Mysterious Healer” stories circulating through the city. They responded with some…subtly cutting remarks and Armsmaster expressed his desire for them to join the Wards, as well as pointing out that they had affiliated themselves, however briefly, with a wanted individual.” Miss Milita continued calmly, her ever-present bandanna (for once) not hiding her face from view, allowing facial expressions to be read by the other’s in the room. “The situation continued to escalate towards physical conflict until Armsmaster decided to allow them to walk free for the time being. We took statements, ensured the civilians were properly healed, and returned them here for M/S screening.”

 

Piggot nodded slowly, mind rolling the story to and fro in her mind as she considered the implications, not the least of which that the ‘Mysterious Healer’ was part of a faction. One possessing a Tinker whose specialty had yet to be observed and a leader that was more powerful (based on what evidence they possessed) than the majority of Blasters alive. A new group of powerful new capes was an unwelcome enough occurrence, heroes or not, but their public mockery of the PRT was in some ways a greater issue. This trio, with their reveal, had laid claim to a significant amount of goodwill from those they had saved or healed, and that goodwill might lead to citizens taking the group’s mockery to heart. A complication that could weaken the PRT’s position in the city, a position that was built on unsteady ground as it was.

 

“And the aura she created when she laughed, it felt like Glory Girl’s?” she inquired, flipping to the appropriate page in the written reports stacked before her, and all three nodded together. She hummed in thought, before leaning back in her chair and regarding them carefully. On the one hand, Armsmaster had acted precipitously and (arguably) foolishly in public. On the other hand, his logic was sound, at least on the surface. Especially after the emotional aura effect, which was (in Glory Girl’s case) only called a Shaker effect instead of a Master effect for the sake of public relations, no matter who argued that it didn’t  _technically_  control anyone. Where emotions went the body followed, and that was close enough to Mastering someone in her book. “Well, we likely won’t be able to get away with calling it a Master effect if the similarities are that obvious. Too many people have felt Miss Dallon’s aura to not recognize the parallels, and they  _would_  call us out on it. I don’t feel like dealing with that particular headache. Hana, she seemed more receptive to you, was it? I would like you to try and interact with her whenever you can, then. See if you can try the enticement approach, draw her into the Wards if at all possible. Colin, I want you to focus on possible containment measures and counters for their known abilities. Pass the word that under  _no_  circumstances is anyone to treat them with hostility. I can guarantee Kaiser will be sending some honey their way, and the last thing we need is them thinking he might have the right of things. Dismissed.”

 

The trio of parahumans rose and departed promptly, leaving her to her thoughts, and she allowed the deep frown of concern to finally reveal itself on her face. She would never, if she could at all help it, reveal too much emotion in front of her subordinates. Certainly not concern or indecisiveness. The city hung by a thread, a very frayed thread that she found herself in command of, and if she faltered that thread would snap. And she would be damned if another Ellisburg happened on her watch.

 

The phone on her desk beeped, a low tone that indicated her receptionist needed her, and she hit the necessary button without looking. Long practice had ingrained it into her muscle memory, and she began re-reading the reports before her as she acknowledged the woman on the other end. Unsuprrisingly she had a phone call, likely someone wanting to talk about the events of the night before. But who…? Her eyes widened then narrowed in calculation as the name was provided, and she accepted the call with a crisp and cool tone.

 

“Piggot, ENE Director.”

 

_“Hello, Emily…”_

 

##################################################################################

 

_I fucking knew it!_  Sophia Hess hissed to herself, pushing away from her desk, and the laptop on its surface, with a rough shove. She had been positive that there was something odd about The Trio, especially Hebert. She had guessed that the ravenette had been gathering thralls, and now she had the proof. It had seemed unlikely that she would hear anything of note if she lingered around them after school, and indeed most of what she had heard had been far from relevant. One phrase, however, had stuck out to her then, when Charlotte had called Taylor ‘My King’. It had taken every ounce of acting ability she had possessed not to react to those words, to the obeisance and submission the phrase indicated, but she had played the oblivious girl listening to her music well. Now, from the mouth and hands of these new parahumans she had heard the same phrase. Their voices were distorted, their faces hidden, but Sophia  _knew_  beyond a shadow of a doubt that the so-called ‘Holy Trinity’ were The Trio of Winslow High School. And it was obvious Taylor had chosen her next target.

 

Purity, one of the most powerful Blasters alive, and certainly (until last night) the most powerful Blaster in Brockton Bay. The only people who came close to matching her was New Wave, and she doubted Hebert could go after any of them yet. Purity was a loner, without powered comrades or family to protect her or interfere if a Master started enticing her. At least that was her current assumption, if Purity  _had_  actually quit The Empire. She was pragmatic enough to acknowledge the possibility, even if she would much prefer to leave her in the mental box labeled ‘Nazi: To Be Shot’.

 

The issue was, if The Trio  _was_  the Holy Trinity, she had a pretty big problem. Not only was Taylor a Master, but she had to be a Trump as well, and a power-sharer at that. Combined with their obvious strength and proficiency, she really rather doubted that she could take them down alone. Maybe a long-range shot would be enough, if she was accurate and hit the head or heart? But she had never killed anyone before, never even tried to for that matter. It was…a pretty big step to take, predator vs prey mentality or not.

 

Moral quandary aside, there was also the fact that a failed attack would end very, very badly for her. If she wasn’t killed outright she would be enslaved, and an angry and vengeful villain might try to hurt her family as well. That was too much to risk, but she couldn’t just leave things the way that they were either, not if she wanted to sleep at night. Maybe she should bring what she knew to the PRT in her Shadow Stalker persona? They wouldn’t try to grab her if she was reporting a dangerous Master in the city, right? Or would they figure out who she was from contextual clues and pressure her mom into signing her up for The Wards? Her mom would do it in a heartbeat, ‘for her own good’, but the very idea of being a PR pony and doing nothing to clean this shithole up was nauseating.

 

“Fuck, I don’t  **know**  what to do. I’ll fucking stalk them, I guess. Gather some concrete info and hope that I figure something out.” She finally sighed aloud to herself, irritated both by her lack of knowledge and her relative indecisiveness, something that was decidedly out of character for her. Maybe she would be wrong, maybe there was a perfectly benign reason for the devoted behavior, maybe Taylor, Emma, and Charlotte were the next Triumvirate and would save Brockton Bay.

 

_Yeah right. This is Brockton Bay, not Parahuman High. Miracles don’t happen here, and that sure as shit would qualify as a miracle._  She snorted to herself as she stood up and padded downstairs for a bite of food. People who sat around waiting for someone else to be the hero, for someone else to save the day and protect them…people like that cost more lives than all the villains of the world put together. If the sheep of the world would just  _stop being sheep_ , there wouldn’t be quite so many massive funerals after the Slaughterhouse Nine showed themselves, wouldn’t see the Endbringer cults as powerful as they were. Of course, then there was always the chance that the PRT would be even more powerful and have even more of a stranglehold on parahuman activity than it did now, but sometimes she wondered if that wouldn’t be worth it.

 

“Morning, Soph!” her mom greeted her cheerfully from the sink, washing the dishes with deft and practiced motions as Sophia plucked a plum from the bowl of fruit on the counter. Grunting a response through her first juicy bite, Sophia took a moment to reflect on how (relatively) lucky she was to have a single mom that could work from home, and still make enough money to ensure that her family lived the stereotypical American dream life. Or the closest thing anyone could come to it now a days, with how much the world had shifted over the last couple of decades. With how much  _people_  had changed, at least in how they behaved publicly. Oh yes, Sophia was very glad to have her mom. Better than her dead-beat coward of a father, who had bailed after the second time a skinhead had said  _that_  word to him.

 

“Good morning, little sister.” A far less welcome, and decidedly male, voice spoke next, and she scowled as its speaker entered the kitchen from the living room. Tall, broad shouldered and muscular a coffee complexion (legacy of his white mother), he would have been handsome if he was anyone but her step-brother (from her father’s previous marriage). Chandler Robert Yarber was 25 years old and a member of the National Guard that spent his ‘off-time’ working for Fortress Constructions and driving her as far as he could up the proverbial wall. He was the only one to retain their mutual father’s last name for his own, Sophia and her mother having reverted to her mother’s maiden name when he had left.

 

“Ugh, what are  _you_ doing here? Shouldn’t you be getting yourself off with a jackhammer somewhere or something?” she groaned in disgust, taking an irritated chomp out of her plum as her brow furrowed in irritation.

 

“Sophia!” her mother chastised her crudeness with a frown of her own while Chandler (she always thought of him that way, since he hated his first name) sighed dramatically and shook his head at her.

 

“My dear baby sister,” he started, smirking slightly when her eye twitched at the ‘endearment’ he bestowed upon her whenever he  _really_  wanted to needle her. “I am of course warmed to the cockles of my heart by your concern for my job, but I in fact have the day off to spend with you! I’ll be taking you to school and bringing you home, so that we can spend all the time together possible!”

 

The look of absolute horror on Sophia’s face was doubtlessly amusing in the extreme for her loving relatives, judging by the grins and soft laughter from her mother, who consequently received what could only be described as a look of deep and fundamental betrayal. Muttering about the unfairness of the world, Sophia turned and swept back up the stairs, devoutly praying that Chandler’s work schedule would pick up as summer approached. Speak of which, it was fortuitous that the school year was almost over. The longer hours and greater free time would give her ample opportunity to hunt down criminals and investigate The Trio.

 

Checking her clock, she sighed softly at the time it displayed. Another day of school awaited her, another day of desperately wearing a mask as she spent hours on end in the company of someone that, though she would never admit it aloud, terrified her. She was a predator, oh yes, and a dangerous one…but she wasn’t stupid enough to think Hebert was anything close to being prey. Dressing quickly and putting on the bare minimum for makeup (she’d never really cared for that sort of thing, even before she Triggered. She was a jock, not a cheerleader!), she slung her backpack over one shoulder and headed downstairs again, ignoring the ‘courtly’ bow Chandler offered her as he opened the front door.

 

“So, got many friends, or do you spend all day doing track and sitting the corner glaring at everyone?” he asked as they pulled out of the driveway and accelerated away from home. Sophia didn’t deign to respond, getting a soft huff of irritation from the elder. “You know, most girl’s would love having a doting, employed big brother to take them to the mall and shit.”

 

“Doting? I don’t think that’s the word I would use…” she drawled, rolling her eyes in dismissal at his moue of sorrow and hurt. How a melodramatic loser like him could ever be a soldier she had no idea. “Delusional, maybe. Dorkish, for sure.”

 

“Ouch. Harsh. Not even the slightest hesitation before you grind me under your heel, huh?”

 

“Never. You belong in the dirt, why do you think you love construction work so much?”

 

“Savage.”

 

The car fell silent again, and Sophia found herself suppressing a small smile. He was an annoying ass, but at least he had a relatively decent sense of humor. Everyone had to have  _some_  sort of redeeming quality, she supposed, no matter how insignificant. Of course, that redeeming quality usually didn’t balance out the rest of their personality…

 

####################################################################

 

Kayden smiled happily down at her happily burbling baby girl, who (fortunately) was far more interested in the small, brightly lit mobile that hung above the changing table than the fact that her mother was putting her through the mighty indignity of a diaper change. She had stumbled upon the method of temper control quite by accident, but she certainly wasn’t going to complain about that or the fact that she had to move the mobile to and from Aster’s crib whenever a change was needed. She much preferred that to dealing with the screaming, writhing, and sometimes  _peeing_  Aster that she had endured for the first few months.

 

Finishing her task, and throwing away the disposable gloves she had used as well as the old diaper, Kayden swooped her baby up in her arms and blew kisses into the delighted child’s stomach, skin shimmering slightly as her power activated in subconscious reaction to her joy at Aster’s squealing laughter. Shifting her baby in her arms, she wandered into the kitchen, intent on making Aster a bottle and having a bit of a snack herself when she jerked to a halt.

 

“Good morning, Kayden.” The extremely unwelcome form of her ex-husband Max said with what most people would call a warm smile from where he sat at the kitchen counter. She responded by shifting Aster securely into her left arm and raising her right as it blazed into luminescence, a feat she had learned through a great deal of trial and error since leaving The Empire. He raised his eyebrows, unafraid but mildly impressed. “I see you’ve learned a few things during your sabbatical, my love.”

 

“Get out, Max. You’re not welcome here any longer, and you’re not going to be welcome here again.” She growled, ignoring his civility with the ease of someone who knew that he was an utter bastard and a truly evil individual.

 

“Now Kayden, is that anyway to great your husband and the father of your adorable little girl?” he asked her smoothly, voice artfully sorrowful and eyes downcast.

 

“ _Ex-Husband_ , with a paper and your signature to prove it. And you might be her sperm donor, but you certainly don’t deserve to be called ‘father’ by any stretch of the imagination.” She hissed in response, the luminescence brightening threateningly in response to her anger, and he spread his hands wide and opened his mouth for his next attempt in appeasing her. Uninterested in listening to any garbage he cared to spew, she steamrolled on. “I know damn well why you’re here, and it has nothing to do with Aster or parenting and everything to do with Seraphim and her friends. I’m sure as hell not going to put in a good word with them for you,  _Kaiser_ , so you might as well hold your breath and walk out.”

 

“Kayden, you know as well as I do that if we don’t take them under wing, they’ll be dead or run out of town in a handful of months. Especially since they’ve made an enemy out of the ABB and the PRT. They’ve got no support, and you know what happens capes like that.” His voice could only be described as soothing, and she hesitated infinitesimally. He did, in fact, have something of a point when it came to the risks her new friends were now facing, but she shook her head.

 

“No, Max, just no. They sent Lee running and faced down the Protectorate, they’ll be fine. I’m not helping you drag anyone else down like Cassie.”

 

“Cassandra is happy…” he attempted to retort, but she shut him down again.

 

“I said  _no_ , Max! Now get out before I call the police! On your payroll or not, it won’t do you or Medhall any good for that to happen.” she commanded, and Max scowled slightly before turning and storming from the room. Putting Aster in her high chair, Kayden fell into the rhythm of fixing a bottle as her mind raced. It had been a big mistake to threaten Max, but she couldn’t see any other way to get him out of her house without using her powers. Something that would have pissed him off a  _lot_  more than her bringing up the police, and certainly would have put Aster in danger. Was it really wise of her to take such an aggressive stance for the sake of people she didn’t even know? She could have agreed to talk to them, its not like they would ever even consider joining the Empire, so what would it have cost her to agree?

 

_Your pride and what shreds of dignity, decency, and self-respect you’ve managed to pull together since dumping his manipulative, ego-maniacal ass._  Her mind responded, and she snorted in dark amusement. It was true enough, even if it was a sad commentary on just how far she had fallen since the bright and idealistic days of her youth. Back before she had started hanging out with the wrong crowd.

 

It had been such a gradual thing, as life often was. No sudden, life-changing moment where she suddenly decided to be a racist, villainous bitch. Just a series of minor decisions, minor mistakes that had been miniscule in the moment, but when added together had been immense indeed. She hung out with some of the ‘edgier’ people she knew, absorbed in the thrill of being ‘bad’. Some weed here, a few shots there, nothing major. But then they introduced her to some other people, people who were of a certain race. She didn’t think much of it, after all most people naturally gravitated towards those that they could relate to most. They had made a few comments, and she had made excuses within her own mind for them. ‘It was just a shitty joke’, she would think to herself. ‘Oh, they used to live in a city with a bad ethnic gang problem, that’s all. Just a little bias from their past.’

 

All of a sudden, she was crossing the street to walk on the opposite side from non-whites coming towards her. No big deal, just a woman alone in a dangerous world looking after herself, right? That’s all it was, she didn’t  _hate_  them or anything. Before she realized it, she was a die-hard member of a white supremacist group, lounging on the right arm of the handsome, charismatic, and rich Maximillian Anders.

 

She shook her head violently, banishing those memories back to the shame-filled depths of her mind from whence they had come. There was little value or purpose in self-flagellation. If she focused on her fuck-ups, she would never get anywhere. She would never mind absolution for her many crimes and countless sins. Squaring her jaw, she picked a grumping Aster up and headed for the crib. Her baby needed a nap, and she needed to send a message to Seraphim. If she was going to redeem herself, protecting three genuinely good and kind young women from Kaiser would be a damn good start!

 

###################################################################

 

Paige McAbee couldn’t help but smile brilliantly as she watched the cut-together events of the Holy Trinity’s debut for the umpteenth time. She couldn’t help it, it was so damn epic…and so damn beautiful. It was, not to put too fine a point on it, quite Biblical. She had been rather inspired, as a matter of fact, and had jotted down a few ideas that could develop into songs, maybe even an album. It wouldn’t be the first time that she, or any number of other singers, had based songs on parahumans and their activities, but it would be far more personal this time.

 

After all, they (like her) were the focus of disturbing attention from the Fallen and hateful rhetoric from those incapable of separating any feathered appearance from that of the hated Simurgh. She could only imagine how quickly Tagg would be making fiery speeches about them, condemning them as puppets of the Queen of Madness, Fallen agents seeking to convert followers, or both. Probably both, he was fond of pairing those two character attacks whenever possible. Fortunately for her record label, and thus her career, teens were more interested in her looks and her voice than they were in her supposedly inevitable evil plots. Well, that wasn’t quite fair. Granted, some of them did care about all the hate she got from many adults, it was the reason they listened to her in the first place. God bless teenagers and their love for doing the exact opposite of what adults told them to.

 

_Thank God for Piggot, too._ She thought to herself in amusement, thinking of the hard-bitten woman that commanded the city’s parahuman law enforcement with something resembling fondness. Oh, she had only met her once, and it was obvious that the heavy-set woman wasn’t a big fan of hers by any stretch of the means, but she also knew that Piggot and Tagg couldn’t stand one another. She didn’t know why, and frankly she didn’t give a damn, but she was the only PRT Director that wouldn’t lock her up just because Tagg told them too. Well, maybe Director Heathrow in Chicago would have been a safe option as well. He had a reputation for being fair, but as bad as Brockton Bay was, Chicago was in some ways worse. Chicago, after all, didn’t have the Marquis Peace in full force like The Bay did, which is why she had chosen to live here.

 

Her cell-phone rang cheerfully, a familiar and favored ringtone interrupting the slightly tinny audio of the video, which she paused as she accepted the without sparing the screen the slightest hint of a glance. She knew who it was, after all.

 

“Hey Dollface, you dancing tonight?” she asked in her most lascivious tone, giggling at the put-upon sigh from the other end.

 

_“Shut up, Tweety. You make me sound like a stripper. I’ll have you know I’m a very respectable businesswoman.”_ Her only friend (besides her boyfriend Eugene) in the whole damn city retorted, and she couldn’t help but grin broadly as she rolled onto her back.

 

To those that didn’t know them well, the friendship between Parian and Bad Canary was sudden, inexplicable, and baffling. Paige was outgoing, vibrant, cheerful and loud. Sabah was stern, solemn, reclusive, and soft-spoken. As far as anyone could tell, they were as different as they could be, but they had quickly found themselves enjoying one another’s company within minutes of their introduction at Parian’s shop. Paige had wanted some high-quality and creative costumes for some of her shows, and had gone to the best person for it. Parian’s reputation was significant, something that (in addition to her sand-bagging her powers) kept any of the gangs both within or without the city from trying to recruit her.

 

“So, did you see the new hottest thing on PHO yet, or were you to busy sewing to slum it with the rest of us?”

 

_“Oh, I saw it alright. I’m pretty sure most of the planet has seen it by now, because it certainly seems like most of the planet is_ talking _about it. I watched the news for an hour, they showed the clips five times. Every other story was a ten-second sound bite. You would think Brockton Bay having a new crop of capes showing up wouldn’t even be news anymore.”_

 

“They’re different from the rest, Sabah, you know that. Anyone who looks at them can tell that much!” the blonde was quick to chastise her friend, and there was a moment of silence that almost had Paige fearing she had offended the other girl.

 

_“True. I know why this is so important to you, Paige, but don’t go jumping in with both feet. I’m no more inclined to think ill of them for their appearance than you are, but that doesn’t mean throwing all caution out the window is a good idea. Be_ careful  _Paige. You would be quite the prize for any number of unpleasant people._ ”

 

“…yeah, I know.” Paige sighed, deflating a little. A high-ranking Master who could control people with her voice? Gangs would kill for an asset like that. Gangs  _had_  killed to get their hands on Masters in the past. Only Tinkers were more coveted, and even then, it was more out of fear that the Master could turn your own people against you if your ‘incentive’ proved insufficient or you pushed them too far. “Don’t worry about me, Dollface, I’ll be careful. I can’t not help them out though, not after what I went through. Besides, it would do both of us some good to have powerful friends in case the gangs get bold enough to come for us. I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

 

They exchanged a few more niceties before ending the call, and Paige popped over to PHO as she thought deeply about what her friend had said. It was certainly possible that the Holy Trinity were Simurgh Fallen, here to bait her out into the open where she could be taken back to their compound without the public attack they would otherwise have had to attempt. However, she honestly doubted that this was the case. Maybe it was just wishful thinking and desire to have new friends that would understand the outright harassment she received, but she felt that she could meet these people with little in the way of fear. She would just have to wait for them to reach back out to her, as she had reached out to Solace.

 

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Thomas Calvert, former member of the PRT Strike Teams, owner of Fortress Constructions, and the not-so-insignificant supervillain Coil, shut yet another report with a frustrated curse. Tossing the useless folder on top of a small pile of equally useless reports, he rubbed his face in the palm of one hand. Dozens of agents, hackers, and moles couldn’t find a single scrap of information on this so-called ‘Holy Trinity’. Even timelines where he literally sacrificed assets in an effort to root out hidden information amongst any of the major powers in the city turned up nothing of value. His power, and the ability it bestowed upon him to accomplish literally any goal he desired with sufficient time, had never been stymied like this before. There had never been a time where every single timeline he created resulted in total failure. It was infuriating…but also alluring, in some bizarre way.

 

A true challenge, something he hadn’t encountered in several years. The hunt would make the final acquisition all the more glorious, even more so if his opponents were intelligent enough to keep anything resembling identifying information secret for so many months. Even their ‘public debut’ revealed nothing that wasn’t already known beyond their names, the claim that the used ‘magic’, and that Seraphim was referred to as ‘My King’ by Solace and Artificer. Which, admittedly, was an intriguing detail, but ultimately wouldn’t help him capture or subvert them. He preferred subversion, of course. People serving you willingly was definitely better compared to the constant focus and care required to control the unwilling. Plus, the willing made better cat’s paws when it came to throwing the hounds off of your trail.

 

_So,_ he mused to himself thoughtful as he leaned back in his chair.  _If none of the assets I currently possess can find out what I need them too, maybe I should look into recruiting_ new _assets. Ones closer to the presumed ages of these three girls. The problem would be finding someone appropriately pliable…unless…?_

 

Turning his attention to his computer screen, he tapped away for a handful of moments and frowned in thought. He had recently seen a report about some former acquaintances of his from several years ago that now lived here in The Bay. Pulling up the relevant file, he read it carefully before a slow, broad smile overcame his face. This was perfect, absolutely perfect, and it could prove useful on multiple levels. He would just have to be careful about how he made his move, but of course he had as many tries as he needed to succeed.

 

His private line rang, and he looked at the caller ID before accepting the call with a smile that was at least 25% genuine.

 

“It’s good to hear from you! What can I do for an old comrade?”

 

_“Hello, Tom…”_

 

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	9. Chapter Seven

**Latest and greatest chapter, wherein we start getting into the central part of this first story arc. I highly reccommend following this story on SB, SV, and QQ if not one those websites. Not only does it have links to TVtropes and other websites that can provide benefits to readers, but you can watch or participate in debate and guesswork on the content of the story!**

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Amy Dallon, more widely known as the world’s foremost and indeed most powerful healer Panacea, watched with well-disguised fascination as the evening news (for what seemed like the millionth time) ran the shaky cell-phone video of The Holy Trinity’s debut. She had been following the case of ‘The Mysterious Healer’ from the very beginning, enthralled by the idea of someone out there as good at healing as she was. The fact that this person had what she didn’t, and had craved for years, in the unbroken Stranger effect she and her companions used to conceal their identities…well, while the fact that the other girl’s could just _stop_ healing when they liked made her feel slightly bitter she was mature enough not to dislike them for it. She would love to be ‘just Amy’ whenever she wanted, but she loved and respected her parents, Aunt, and Uncle for wanting to start a new era of parahuman accountability. It had failed horribly and gotten cousin Fleur killed, but she had patched up enough heroes and innocent victims in this city to want those responsible _gone_ , Unwritten Rules be damned!

                “I wish you didn’t like them quite so much, Amy. They seemed entirely too willing to indulge in collateral damage, and I don’t like the whole Stranger thing all that much either…” speaking of her mother, it seemed her calm façade hadn’t fooled Carol Dallon, aka Brandish, one bit. While she and her adoptive mother weren’t _exactly_ the image of a happy mother-daughter pair, they still loved one another. There was always a hint of something, though, when Carol looked at her. A flicker of fear and old pain, though she had no idea why or what to do about it.

                “Not like they could really hold back Oni Lee. Not when they showed up just in time to keep him from killing Purity and a bunch of civilians, including kids. The ABB has always played fast and loose with The Rules thanks to Lung, but still…” Amy protested in defense of the new heroes, and Carol nodded in grudging acknowledgement, a frown creasing her brow. With the Dragon of Kyushu as their master and protector, the Asian Bad Boys had always been bold and aggressive when they took action. After all, why fear the law enforcement when your boss was capable of taking on every heroically-inclined parahuman in the city _alone_ and sending them packing. Hell, even if that _hadn’t_ been his introduction to Brockton Bay, the fact that he had gone toe to toe with _Leviathan himself_. Granted he hadn’t won, but Leviathan hadn’t been able to kill him either. In the end, the island itself had been the true loser, and its inhabitants the casualties.

                “I think having some more girl heroes in the city is fantastic. Brockton Bay is a total sausage fest.” Victoria Dallon, Brandish’s blood daughter and Amy’s adoptive sister, commented lazily, before wincing at the sharp-tongued rebuke from her mother in regards to her language. Catching sight of her snickering sister, the blond Alexandria-type (known officially as Glory Girl, but far more commonly as such endearing epithets as ‘Collateral Damage Barbie’, ‘Glory Hole’, and ‘Greek Goddess Wannabe’) glowered for a moment and continued. “It is though! You’d think that with the male-to-female cape ratio being so skewed there would be more than one girl in The Wards!”

                “You could always join up and spend even more time with Dean. Then there would be two.” Amy pointed out dryly, smiling slightly as her sister scoffed and flapped her hand dismissively.

“Please, Dean wouldn’t be able to handle me 24/7. The poor boy would keel over three days in.” Vicky sniffed haughtily, lounging back in her seat with a satisfied smile, and Amy rolled her eyes with mingled exasperation and fondness. She loved her sister, probably a little too much, but honestly Vicky’s propensity for what could only be described as arrogance was more than a little irritating. Although Amy was willing to (begrudgingly) admit that it was partially her fault. She was incapable of saying no to Vicky or letting her live with the consequences of her reckless predilection for excessive force, and unfortunately that meant said predilection had only grown stronger over the years.

                “He had better not be ‘handling’ you at all.” Mark Dallon, aka Flashbang, said severely as he entered the room, and the whole family brightened visibly. The man of the family suffered from chronic, crippling depression and more often than not didn’t take his medication. When he did, though, he was a wonderful father and husband. It seemed like today was a good day. “You’re far to young for that sort of thing.”

                “I’m 15 dad, I’m not a little girl anymore.” Vicky rolled her eyes in a distinctly unruffled manner, but Mark drew himself up and stared down at her sternly until she sighed. “Dad, I’m not stupid. I love Dean, but I’m not going to do anything… _permanent_ , okay? I’m not even _close_ to ready for that kind of thing yet.”

Amy felt her eyebrows raise involuntarily at the distinctly mature and serious nature of the words and the tone they were said in, surprised in spite of herself. From the looks on her parent’s faces, they were equally surprised (and pleased) by the obviously genuine statements. It wasn’t talked about much, for obvious reasons, but it was a well-known fact that the debut of the Endbringer’s had caused more than a little loosening of what was considered appropriate sexual conduct amongst the youths of the world.

In other words, most people in high school were more than likely than not to be get laid sometime before leaving high school. Why? Because if five story tall monster showed up and levelled your entire county of residence, you might as well enjoy life to the fullest until then. Among capes it was even worse, given there rather shorter life expectancy in the face of the unending conflict and danger of being a parahuman.

The fact that Vicky, The Patron Saint of Not-Thinking-Ahead, was being mature and serious about something like sex was really rather impressive. On the other hand, Amy was willing to admit that Vicky was smart enough to know the risks that could lead to. Even Tinkertech contraceptives weren’t perfect, and there had been plenty of studies showing that the offspring of two parahumans were more likely to be parahumans themselves. Which was actually a relief, because she _really_ didn’t want to know that her very guilty secret crush was engaged in hot, sweaty sex with a boy. Vicky naked? She’d seen it before, and damned if it wasn’t burned into her mind, but a naked Dean? _Ewww!_

                “Good, I’m glad to hear it. Now, Amy-girl, your mother has a distinct point about the Stranger effect. It’s not the identity concealment alone that’s a problem, though you know how we feel about accountability. The fact that it does not only that but _modifies memories_ is the problem. It isn’t hard to imagine how that could be abused.” Mark addressed the younger of the sisters, holding up a hand as she opened her mouth to protest. “Now, I’m not saying they’re actually Fallen members or mini-Simurgh’s, but no one likes an individual, never mind a group, that can mess with their minds.”

Amy wilted a little and nodded her understanding an agreement as that particular point hit home. Though her family didn’t know it, Amy had been sand-bagging her powers for a long, long time in order to avoid being compared to people that had been Caged or outright executed (or, for that matter, had a standing execution order) for the abilities they possessed and how they chose to use them. For Amy Dallon was no mere healer, but a Biokinetic that had full reign over _anything_ organic. Everyone knew she could cure cancer, make breasts bigger (and it was absurd how often people requested that!), and regrow limbs, but _no one_ besides Amy herself was aware that she could manipulate brains. And she had every intention of keeping it that way, because she had no interest in either the suspicion, mistrust, and even danger such an admittance would result in, and because that way lay a temptation that she refused to even contemplate.

She would _not_ become a cautionary tale!

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                _“Quarantine efforts continue in Madison in response to the Simurgh’s recent assault on the city. In response to queries by those with loved ones inside of the afflicted metropolis, Triumvirate member Legend is quoted as having said that ’Efforts are ongoing to ensure the safety and comfort of everyone trapped by the Simurgh’s cruelty across the world, and the greatest Thinkers and Tinkers alive, hero and villain, dedicate considerable effort in finding a way to cure those affected by her scream, as well as developing countermeasures.’ Now, for somewhat brighter news, we head over to Harvey at the Sports’ Desk. Harvey?”_

                “I wish there was something we could do for them…” Emma sighed sadly from where she lounged in a comfortable armchair. Taylor hummed in agreement, seated as Emma was in an armchair. Like so many other days, she and her two Pawns were hanging out at Charlotte’s house. With her Dad working long hours, she tended to spend more time out of her house than in it. Besides, if they were going to spend a lot of downtime someplace, it made sense to stay as close as possible to their base of operations without actually being _inside_ of it.

                “We can go to the next Endbringer fight and save lives with our healing and warding, but none of us have the finesse to heal the minds of Ziz Bombs, never mind the fact that we don’t even have a technique to do it with.” She responded, before eeping in surprise and embarrassment as Charlotte entered the room and plopped down in her lap without a word. She blushed brightly as her Arcane-Tinker curled up against her and tucked her brunette-crowned head under her chin, and she shot Emma a slightly helpless look, only receiving a blushing half-shrug in return. Ever since she had Reincarnated Charlotte as a Fallen Angel, the girl had been getting more and more affectionate with her, which made Taylor’s jumbled emotions and physical wants in regards to her friend even more confusing. She didn’t _mind_ per-se, but she wasn’t exactly sure what to do about it either. Well, besides instinctually wrap her arms around her in a loose embrace…purely to make sure she didn’t fall off and hit the floor, of course! “Ahem. Anyway, I think our speed and magic will drop causalities amongst the capes and the civilians. By how much, I’m not sure, but some is better than none.”

                “I wouldn’t mind trying a Light Spear Barrage on the Winged Bitch. Even if it didn’t do that much damage, it would probably sting something fierce. I can’t imagine that Holy Magic would treat her too kindly, because she damn well isn’t an angel.” Charlotte added in contentedly, grinning a little internally at the lack of negative reaction from Taylor. She had fallen for the idea of Taylor a long time ago, thanks to all the stories her mother had told her about what Annette had been, and therefore what Taylor would become. Meeting her had proven her imagination wasn’t entirely unmerited, and witnessing the Nephilim’s power and grace had sealed the deal. Now she just had to get her King to warm up to the idea, thus doing what could only be described as cuddling. “If she’s anything, it would be demonic.”

                “And our bond with you will doubtless make us immune to her mind games, and those of any other Master. We should have Canary test that when we meet with her.” Emma pointed out, getting a grunt of confusion from Taylor, who looked at her in surprise and consternation. Tilting her head to the side, she explained. “We should meet her soon. We told her we would, and she is probably the only other person in this city who could understand how we’re being treated online. Besides, being friends with a wealthy, popular teen idol that also happens to be a Master could come in handy.”

                “It could also get us into trouble with the PRT and bring the gangs down on Canary’s head.” Taylor pointed out, a point that was quickly refuted with irritating nonchalance by both of her companions. If the PRT was going to have a problem with them, their actions during their Debut certainly would have caused it, and the gangs knew better than to attack a Master whose voice was their power. Not without significant planning and favour on their side, and attacking a Rogue without a guaranteed payout was poor business planning. And she had to admit that they had a point. There was no such thing as too many allies, after all, and it was best to have allies that brought serious benefits to the table.

It would also be cool to have more friends her age, she supposed, and it wasn’t as though Canary was hard on the eyes…

She shook her head, trying to dispel such thoughts with some difficulty, but it was made rather difficult when Charlotte grumbled in displeasure at her movement, shifting against her and pressing their breasts together as her face shifted up into the hollow of Taylor’s throat. What a _remarkable_ feeling that was, one that caused a flock of butterflies to take wing in her stomach. Charlotte really was making it rather hard for her to suppress lecherous thoughts, one might even think that this was the _entire point_.

                “Charlotte, how has your Tinkering been going? Have you been making any progress?” she said, and she was proud of the fact that her voice barely wavered, which would have revealed her emotional turmoil in a distinctly noticeable manner.

                “Yes, My King.” The girl in her arms practically purred, which did nothing whatsoever to calm her nerves, sounding quite pleased with herself for a whole host of reasons. “I’ve made some headway in creating rings that hold the same Stranger effect we use naturally. It could prove a useful to give out to trusted capes as a back-up for battle damage that might reveal their faces. I’m also hoping that I can duplicate your mother’s armor, which should be greatly simplified by the fact that we have all of her notes on crafting it.”

                “Good, very good.” The praise was genuine, and Charlotte made a happy sound in gratitude, though Taylor’s next words sobered her somewhat, for they were a command despite the kindness with which they were given. I want you to search through all of her notes for a method of duplicating my restraint rings. Above and beyond the rest of my Peerage eventually needing them, if we can find a way to produce them we will make it impossible for villains to escape PRT custody.”

                “By Your Command.” The response was crisp, but after a moment Charlotte continued in a rather more hesitant and unsure tone of voice. “My King, if the rest of the world is given possession of such items, they could be used against heroes as well, including us. I know there are more than a few heroes and rogues out there that the PRT hasn’t been able to _recruit_ because they don’t have the strength to force the issue. If they can render anyone powerless anytime they want…”

                “Tsk. Good point. We’ll need to find a way to install fail-safes into them, then. The last thing I want to do is put good people at risk just to get rid of the bad ones.” Was the frowned acknowledgment, a brow furrowed by concern over the voiced possibility marring an otherwise flawless visage. She thought deeply for a full minute before speaking again. “Emma, set up a meeting with Canary as soon as possible. If nothing else she’ll be our first Rogue contact, which could produce more than a few advantages.”

                “Of course, it will probably be sometime within the next couple of days. I know she wanted to do it as soon as we were willing. I’ll pick someplace appropriately neutral?” when Taylor shook her head she raised her eyebrows. “You want to insist its on our territory? No, hers?”

                “Yes, I think that she will be quite a bit more comfortable meeting with people like us in a familiar, safe place rather than anywhere else. Given what people online are saying about us, The Fallen included, she has reason enough to be concerned about a chat where she is outnumbered three to one.” Taylor explained, getting a nod of understanding from her crimson-haired companion. “While she does that and you do your research, Charlotte, I’m going to do a little scouting work around the ABB/Empire border.”

                “Enemy territory, alone? Are you sure?” Charlotte sat up, clear concern shining in her eyes, and Taylor tossed her hair a little and nodded with a confident smirk. Rolling her eyes in affectionate exasperation, Charlotte pecked Taylor on the cheek before popping to her feet and flouncing away, calling over her shoulder. “Its not like I wanted to cuddle more anyway! Go play with your dirty criminal punching bags, I’ll just be moping over a pile of books!”

Taylor was quite sure she should say something witty in response, but the kiss and Charlotte’s parting words left her entirely off-balance. It was now quite clear to her now that this was not, to Charlotte, a game. She wasn’t _too_ surprised, she supposed, as conceited as it might sound. From what her mother had written, Peerages almost always entered romantic relationships with their Kings, though there were exceptions of course. She and Charlotte would need to have a serious chat, it seemed, after her scouting run was finished. For now, though, they all had their objectives to complete, and it was time that she got going. Stepping out the backdoor, she wrapped her power around herself like a cloak, disguising her features as she freed her wings and took to the sky. The crimson streaks of a glorious sunset bathed the expansive skyline, and not for the first time she wondered at the awe of Creation.

She also wondered at the Silence of her Father.

Several times in countless journals, Annette had wondered at this Silence, for it was not Absence as so many on Earth Bet had come to believe. No, their Father was _here_ , and though they were Fallen Angels they were Angels still. Heaven lay there, at the edge of their sense, a presence possessing weight beyond comprehension, but it was a weight without influence. Heaven and Hell were closed, here, in some way beyond her understanding. Souls could gain entrance, blessings and miracles were not incapable of reaching human-kind, yet neither Angels nor Devils nor even this realms’ native Fallen were anywhere on the mortal plane. It could only be by Design, yet to what end? To what Purpose?

Perhaps it had something to do with Parahumans? It was possible for some power-thief parahuman to steal Divine power, theoretically, so perhaps He had closed Heaven and Hell to keep the parahumans from breaching them? Or perhaps He had sealed them off to keep the Devils from creating more monsters on the level of The Nine? She just didn’t know, and she had nowhere near enough information to make any guesses.

She sighed a little tiredly as she banked towards her objective, sun dipping below the horizon as night began to fall in earnest. There was nothing to be gained by asking question beyond her understanding and beyond her ability to solve. Better to focus on healing one peace of the world at a time, starting with identifying weaknesses, or persons and places of interest in regards to the gangs of Brockton Bay. Things that would have to be _removed and reduced_ for the sanctity of the future.

Supernaturally sharp eyes began to scan the physical world around her even as she cast her power out like a web, a flawless net created with the singular purpose of finding those with evil in their hearts. True evil, that is, not the petty (if still sinful) misdeeds man committed everyday against one another. She could feel traces of it, a cloak of cloying darkness, a thick and oily fog that lingered in this place, the region of so much pain and hate. It was not thin, for it lingered too strongly after so many years to ever be referred to as such, but she could tell no one of particular darkness had been in the area recently. Unfortunate and somewhat surprising, but…ah, perhaps this was the cause for it. She could feel Purity near by, and the average mook of the ABB and E88 would have no interested in engaging the powerful Blaster without significant backup of the parahuman variety.

The Merchants probably would, but given how high they were at all times it wasn’t terribly surprising that what brain cells they (might) still possess did not offer an overabundance of caution, intellect, or common sense. Though she would have to work with Emma, perhaps set up a collaboration between Panacea and Solace to help those addicted, whether by choice or by force. She was certain they could come up with something, perhaps a magical bangle that worked like a sort of narcotic nicotine patch? Hmmm…

Banking to the left, she stooped into a lazy dive as she headed towards Purity, and as she drew closer she realized that the faintly shining light of Purity’s soul (still tinged with the shades of grey that were the remains of the darkness she had lived in for a decade) had been slightly blocking out the aura of another soul. One that was firmly grey, the clouded overcast of a soul not fully within light or dark, but rather was firmly on the fence.

Who could Purity be with, she wondered to herself.

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Cassandra Herren, closet Nazi and even more closeted nerd, had grown with white supremacy. Quite literally learned to hate ‘the lesser races’ with her mother’s milk, even if her parents insisted that they were ‘enlightened’ rather than being _classical_ Nazis. Because, apparently, it was better to want to rule over everyone else rather than simply trying to kill them all. Their separation from the main family had been a stunt, little more, and so when Cassie had decided she would have a fit of teenaged rebellion, she sought out her second cousin Ariana and rejoined the main family.

It didn’t take her long for her devil-may-care attitude to land her in juvie, where she was quickly forced to embrace rather more of her relatives’ ideals than she had ever been required before. It was not enough, in prison, to simply use derogatory nicknames and shoplift from minority-owned stores. No, as a scion of ‘The Clan’ she had been forced to find more _physical_ means to ensure her place. She had seen enough TV documentaries to know that prison, even (or especially!) juvie, had two kinds of people: predators and prey. And she would _not_ become prey, by God!

By the time she had left juvie, most people would say that she was well on her way down the slippery slope she had once stood on. They would be right, and her fall had only accelerated when her cousin (now the parahuman known as Othala, for she had triggered while Cassie was incarcerated) had introduced her to Kayden Ander, aka Purity. Now _this_ was a real woman! Strong, independent, on the arm of a wealthy and powerful man whom she clearly loved, and a Blaster powerful enough to stand against two or even three other parahumans by herself!

She had _idolized_ Kayden, and it hadn’t taken her long to join Empire 88 alongside her cousin. When she had Triggered and become Rune, it had been Kayden who had mentored her and helped her learn the intricacies of her power. It had been Kayden who had acted as her big sister, Kayden with whom she spent most of her free time, and Kayden whose home she often slept at to avoid dealing with her parents.

But then her world had fallen apart. The woman she had idolized had abandoned The Empire, abandoned _her_ , without anything resembling a backwards glance. Oh, how Cassie had hurt after that. It felt like a deep and personal betrayal, and she was surprised to realize that the personal betrayal had cut far more deeply than the betrayal of ‘The Cause’. It was the personal, not the political, abandonment that mattered to her the most.

So when Kaiser, freshly returned from another fruitless attempt in convincing his wayward wife to return, had summoned her to his throneroom. His command: to spend time with Kayden, to convince the mother of his child to return, and discover her connection to The Holy Trinity by whatever means she saw fit. Honeyed words, guilt, manipulation, or outright spying were all considered perfectly acceptable in pursuit of her goal. To disobey wasn’t an option, of course, but she had still jumped at the chance. Not only to gain some meagre bit of revenge, but also to receive answers to questions that had long plagued her: _why_. Why had Kayden left, why had she turned on Kaiser, why had she abandoned her friends after so many years?

Why had she left Cassie behind without so much as a goodbye?

It hadn’t taken her too long to find the older woman, knowing what she (or rather The Empire) did about Purity’s patrol habits. Lo and behold, Purity was patrolling the edge of Empire and ABB territories looking for drug and gun runners. Not particularly wanting to get blaster for her troubles, she  circled around and crossed Kayden’s sightline a couple of times, closer with each pass, until one shinning hand lifted in recognition and waved her down to the rooftop. Moments later, she was once again standing face to face with her idol.

                “…its been a while, Rune. I’m glad to see that you’re alright.” Kayden said after a moment, and in that instant Kaiser’s orders were forgotten, and Cassie folded her arms over her chest with a scowl and a scoff of contempt and disbelief, all the hurt and anger rushing back at once.

                “Yeah, I’m doing fucking _fantastic_! I especially like the part where you bailed on me without a single fucking word and haven’t sent me so much as a text message since. It really solidified just how much _value_ you put in me and our friendship, it really did! I’ve never felt more important to anyone in my _entire life_!” she sneered in response, feeling a thrill of savage satisfaction at the discernable flinch and the way Kayden seemed to withdraw into herself.

                “I did what had to be done, Rune, I don’t expect you to understand. You’re young…” Kayden started in what she probably thought was a soothing and placating manner, but all it did was make Rune angrier with the frankly patronizing way it came across.

                “To young to understand what? Betrayal, abandonment? All the work, all the training, all the wise words I memorized as you spoke them, for **_what?_** To be discarded like a broken toy without a hint of regret?!” Rune cried out, throwing her hands up in the air as her eyes stung with tears. “You were my _idol_ , I looked up to you! I _loved_ you, and you just **_left!_** ”

                “You think I _wanted_ to leave you with them? You think I’m _proud_ of having been your idol and getting you into their bullshit?” Kayden snapped back, luminescence flaring briefly in response to her agitation. “I wanted to bring you with me, but there is no way Kaiser would have let that happen. I’m strong enough he can’t force me to toe the line without breaking The Rules, but you wouldn’t have stood a chance if I had dragged you along in my ‘brief act of rebellion’, as he insists on calling it.”

                “Oh, so you just _wanted to protect me_?” Cassie sneered, clearly finding that to be a very weak and convenient excuse, and Kayden was opening her mouth to respond when a third figure touched down on the roof and spoke instead.

                “What a strange thing I see with these eyes of mine. Two friends, dearly beloved, separated by parted paths. Each wishing the best of the other, each bitterly resentful. What could result, I can’t but wonder, other than pain greater still.” The gentle voice remarked as Seraphim folded her wings and crossed the last few feet to join the now-staring pair. “Both right, both wrong, both poised on the tip of a blade. Light on one side, Darkness on the other, who can say to which side you will fall?”

                “Seraphim? I’m surprised to see you here, how did you find us?” Kayden asked, voice somewhat more even than it had been moments before, and Rune’s stare intensified. She had known who it was, obviously, the whole world had seen the footage, but she pictured something _different_ all the same. Her method of speech was certainly different from the video, almost sing-song in its archaic phrasing.

                “Ah, well, I recognized your presence as I patrolled the area for those inclined to nefarious deeds, and I thought to myself: ‘Why not drop by and say hello.’ Then, of course, I saw you in the midst of a remarkable discussion with your old comrade, and thought to interrupt it before truly regrettable things are said.” The winged hero responded with a lazy looking shrug, and a dismissive flap of one hand. “Now, from what I gather, you and dear Rune were extremely close once upon a time. I can’t imagine she is exaggerating the hurt she felt when you left, though I have little doubt that you are correct in your assessment of Kaiser’s reaction. So, I have the ideal solution!”

                “Oh really? What might that be?” drawled Kayden, folding her arms, hip (and doubtless eyebrow) cocked in amused curiosity, the tension of the previous argument completely dispersed by this point.

                “Why, she lives with you for a couple of weeks!” Seraphim told the pair, blithely ignoring their surprise. “I’m sure a couple of weeks exposed to your new reality will do her some good, and it will give you guys plenty of time to reconnect with one another!”

                “…you know, you’re kind of ruining your dramatic, noble, awe-inspiring image from the other night.” Rune couldn’t help but comment a little blankly, not entirely sure what to make of this rather strange young woman. Seraphim cocked her head to the side for a moment, and Rune found herself falling to her knees, head bowed, as a weight crashed down on her. It was a Presence that had tangible weight, a physical essence that surrounded her. It felt like gravity itself had increased its hold on her, and the primitive creature at the core of every human knew that the… _entity_ before her was vastly superior to her in every way imaginable.

                “Seraphim, that’s enough! Leave her be!” Purity’s voice was firm and possessed a razor edge, and the weight vanished as quickly as it had appeared, and with Kayden’s help Cassie was able to stagger back to her feet.

                “Take that as a reminder, my friend. Though Kaiser acts in every moment the ruler, inseparable and unwilling to be anything but to those he calls comrade, those with true power and true confidence _in_ that power have no need to posture with every breath and movement.” Seraphim’s voice was cool and even, before lightning again as she continued. “Now, I have no interest in being _your_ enemy, nor Purity’s. Unlike most of your compatriots, the two of you seem to possess some semblance of decency and self-respect. Purity, I’ll contact you soon. Rune, I hope the two of you sort your issues out. A friendship should not be allowed to die a quiet and apathetic death.”

As abruptly as she came, Seraphim was gone, winging her way across the city once more, leaving the shaken Rune being supported by a concerned Purity. She couldn’t believe how different the two… _personalities_ , almost, of Seraphim were. But perhaps that was her point, perhaps she had instigated a display to remind her, and Purity, that though Seraphim was young and could be kind or playful, she was still powerful.

Yet, somehow, it felt quite unlike the displays of power put on by Kaiser. It didn’t feel like she was trying to awe or threaten them, but rather that she was ensuring she wasn’t underestimated to grievously. Rune wasn’t quite sure what to make of this situation, but she did know in that moment that she would _not_ do anything to make herself an enemy of The Holy Trinity.

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                “You’ve Pathed his plan, then? I trust that it won’t interfere too badly with our own intentions?”

                “I can guarantee that it will force us to change some of our plans, but its for the best. In the short term it will seem catastrophic, but the end result will be more than worth the problems in between.”

                “Fine. I have to get back to work. Door to my PRT office.”

                “Of course, I can’t Path any of them for a damn, but I wasn’t going to tell you that. On to the next step, then…”

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	10. Chapter Eight

**REMINDER: I reverted the timeline shift of Madison/Canberra that occurred in the original version of a previous chapter. It was done on a whim and would have invalidated the next ten chapters or so of my outline. When I sat and thought about it, I laughed and called myself an idiot before fixing it.**

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The Mid-western United States had always had a more…widespread population than their fellows on the coastal extremes. Indeed, such regions of the country had always been known for having more crops and livestock then they did the humans that cultivated and harvested them. It was, regrettably, this idyllic, and isolated, country lifestyle that had doomed so many of them. When villains came to call, it could take hours for help to come, something that hadn’t escaped notice of the worst of all. Since its inception, the Mid-West had been the favored hunting grounds of the most dangerous non-Endbringer threat to walk the world.

The Slaughterhouse Nine.

A band of murderous, cruelly and insidiously cunning thugs that killed whomever they wanted for whatever reason. Fun, petty revenge, pure boredom…to them, any kill was a good kill, and its various incarnations had annihilated entire towns in order to satiate their craving for blood and ‘entertainment’. It might be an exaggeration to say that the Nine had killed more people than The Endbringers, but not by much. And, like the other S-class threats of Earth Bet, the Endbringers could at least be tracked. The Nine could level a town and vanish without a trace, reappearing months later thousands of miles away.

Let it not be said, however, that the people of the United States were willing to tolerate their evil predations and depraved butchery. Villain and Hero alike would band together to drive them off, and more than once they had been reduced to a mere pair of members, or even just the Leader alone. Jack Slash, a name that evoked fear and rage in equal measure, and proved infuriatingly impossible to kill. He had been wounded many, many times, but always escaped with his life intact.

But it wasn’t only parahumans that fought these monsters sheathed in human flesh, oh no! It was rare, but among certain, more well-armed demographics of the country, the noncombatants would flee while everyone willing and weaponized would see how big a chunk could be bitten off of the Nine with liberal use of the Second Amendment. After all, if they were going to murder you all anyway (which they were), then you might as well go out guns blazing and hope you got lucky.

Of course, then the surviving members wiped the defenders out and destroyed the town as they pleased anyway, but the effort was by no means insignificant. Equally unsurprising was the fact that such ghost towns were very rarely re-settled by humans. After all, the survivors had no interest in living surrounded by the ghosts of past horrors, and those not local had no interest in moving somewhere the Nine might decide to visit again.

It was in one such town, a cattle community by the ever-so-creative name of Cattle Ridge, that an entirely different (and far more moral) group of wanderers had taken refuge. Though no one yet knew, they had wandered farther afield than anyone else alive on Earth Bet, for they were not native to this dimension at all. They were, in point of fact, from the parallel dimension most known to the inhabitants of the world they now lived in: Earth Aleph.

                “Damnit, this is our best chance!” Marissa Newland, an attractive young blonde with clear, crystal blue eyes, snapped in agitation, the air around her shimmering slightly with heat. Her superpower, gained after drinking some sort of vials in this dimensions Madison when they arrived, was the create literal, miniaturized suns. A power she had to keep a tight leash on, given the devastation it could wrought, a feat that was proving difficult so far given the minute time-frame she had thus far possessed. “Between Panacea and Solace, Brockton Bay is our best chance to help Noelle! For fucks sake, they can help _Jess_ and get her out of that damn wheelchair!”

                “I know that, but we’re not exactly _close_ , Mars! We’ve no ID, no way of knowing how people will react to us, and we have no way to _get there!_ ” Francis Krouse, whose power (though they were still finding its limits) gave him the ability to swap two objects within his line of sight of roughly the same bulk.  Lightly tanned skin, long dark hair, and eyes that could pierce the soul would have made many a maiden swoon if not for the one, impossible-not-to-notice detracting feature he possessed: a somewhat large, hooked nose.  This feature had all but guaranteed that he found romance difficult, though that problem had soon been resolved by the object of their discussion, Noelle Meindhardt.

Previously a thin, almost anorexic brown-eyed brunette, she was now a somewhat more bulky brown-eyed brunette, cursed with a ravenous hunger that seemed to be growing worse as time went on. It had quickly become apparent that something was wrong with her power, and the cause was rapidly discerned to have been the fact that she drank only a half vial rather than a full. An appetite wasn’t the worst part, unfortunately, for they soon found that touching her bare skin resulted in a clone of themselves, powers and all. Clones that were, without any doubt or exaggeration, pure evil. Thank God that they had discovered this with Jess rather than Marissa, or they all would have died.

The rest of the group watched the two argue uneasily, not liking the rift in their circle of friends but unsure about how they could fix it. Jess, the wheelchair-bound auburnette with the power of ‘Entity Creation’. Luke, the somewhat ironic member of their little group of gamer nerds, had by far the most jockish appearance, looking more like a football player than a professional video gamer. Oliver, whose power seemed to be some sort of minor shape-shifting, though the specifics had eluded them. Cody, the punk-looking and by far the most… _volatile_ member of the team, who seemed capable of manipulating time to some (very minor) degree.

                “Look, we know that Earth Aleph isn’t new to this world. I say that we talk to the nearest parahuman law enforcement that we can find and ask them for help getting to Brockton Bay. Either that, or we start walking, and that might take too long.” Marissa folded her arms, staring down her verbal opponent, and Francis threw his hands up in the air.

                “Or they decide Noelle is too dangerous and lock her up, or worse! WE don’t exist here, Mars, and no one will notice if we _disappear_ into some deep, dark hole for the rest of our lives! I’m not willing to take that kind of risk!”

                “Well I am.” Noelle’s voice brought the argument to a halt, and every eye turned to the quiet-spoken young woman that had been their captain back on Aleph. “Mars is right, we can’t wait to long, or things are just going to get worse. Panacea can cure cancer and regrow limbs, and they say that Solace is just as powerful, if not more so. Besides, if things go bad, we can get ourselves out. I doubt prison bars could stop our dancer’s suns.”

Marissa blushed lightly in response, though she also frowned at the idea of violence. She was a peaceful person by nature, neither prone to nor fond of resorting to force in order to get what she wanted. She didn’t really like the idea of fighting law enforcement either, but then if they were trying to hurt her friends without cause, she was willing to bet that she could find it in herself to stop them. And while she would prefer not to risk it, instead going overland using Jess’ creatures for transport, that would take time they might not have.

                “That wouldn’t be a bad codename for Mars, actually. Sundancer.” Jess commented, tilting her head to the side as she considered it thoughtfully, and the room paused to contemplate it, before heads started bobbing in agreement. Marissa didn’t love anything as much as she did dancing, she created miniature suns, and the combination sounded cool. Which, as everyone knew, was vitally important for any super hero’s identity. “The rest of us should come up with something as well.”

The shift of subjects, and Noelle’s support for the newly-christened Sundancer, seemed to take the wind out of Francis’ sails. His shoulders slumped in resignation and acceptance, one hand dipping into a pocket to withdraw a cigarette and lighter that he made use of with practiced ease. Marissa wrinkled her nose in distaste and moved away from the rancid stench of nicotine with graceful haste. She had never particularly appreciated Francis’ indulgences, and she had no idea how Noelle could tolerate cuddling with someone who reeked of it twenty-four seven.

God, she wished she was home. Aleph had superheroes, true, and villains for that matter. But from the news they had seen and the conversations they had over-heard since arriving on this parallel version of their home, it had quickly become all to clear that Earth Bet was a thousand times more dangerous than Aleph. The parahumans were more powerful, more volatile, and there were multi-story monsters periodically attempting (and often succeeding) to annihilate small cities. Or, in the case of Leviathan, one of the Main Japanese Isles. All she wanted was to find a decent romantic partner, win Nationals, and get picked for the Olympics. That was her dream life, and she couldn’t achieve it if she stayed here.

                “I’m going for a walk, I’ll see if anyone is snooping around while I’m at it.” She announced abruptly, heading for the front door of the dilapidated house they had taken refuge in. Ignoring the half-voiced protests and calls to be careful, she swept outside and began strolling through the moonlit streets. Jamming her hands in her pockets, she frowned down at the road stretching out before her, feeling rather poetic and philosophical. _The road to the future, which had always seemed so clear to me, was now like a dark highway at night_. She quoted to herself with a sardonic smile. She had never had any doubts about herself, none that she permitted to sway her at any rate, because she had always been taught that doubt was the first step of failure. Which wasn’t to say arrogance or the belief of one’s own infallibility was a good idea, but saying “I can’t” or “I’ll fail” all but guaranteed that you would. She tilted her head back and regarding the stars, breathing deep the fresh air of an oncoming spring, a small smile tugging at her lips despite everything. As much as she would rather be home, being in an alternate dimension was kind of cool, and at least she wasn’t alone. She had her friends, and they all had powers, so they were by no means helpless. Oh no, they were far from helpless, and as much as she hated violence, she wouldn’t let anything stand in the way of her friends returning home. If she had to sully her hands to protect the people she loved…well, there were worse causes.

She would avoid it if possible, of course. That was one reason she wanted to go to Brockton Bay. Though it had more villains than any other American city, that very swelling of the criminal world is what had ensured the city reached a balance of sorts. A perpetual cold war, and under the protection of the PRT or of Seraphim, she and her friends would be safe and violence-free until they found someone who could send them home.

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                “You wanted to talk to me, my King?” Charlotte’s soft voice drew Taylor away from her homework, and she glanced up to see her friend and Pawn looking down demurely at the floor from where she stood in the ‘entrance’ to the library section of their base of operations.

                “You don’t have to call me that all the time, Charlotte.” Taylor responded for what felt like the thousandth time, and Charlotte shrugged imperceptibly without removing her eyes from the ground. Sighing, Taylor asked her to take the chair directly opposite her own. After the other girl was seated comfortably, she continued. “I’m going to be blunt, my friend: do you have feelings for me?”

                “Geez, talk about putting a girl on the spot…” Charlotte grumbled softly to herself, but she nodded nonetheless and responded in a louder tone of voice. “I love you, Taylor. I always have, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

                “…wow, okay. I wasn’t expecting a declaration of love.” Taylor blinked, to shocked to be embarrassed in that moment. “We barely know each other, you can’t possibly…wait, what do you mean, you’ve always loved me? We’ve only known each other for, like, a year!”

                “We were always going to be together. I was always going to be a member of your Peerage. My mom raised me on stories of Annette, of who and what she was. I always knew that someday I would help you as intimately and loyally as my mom served yours. I’ve spent my entire life getting ready.”

                “That’s…” Taylor couldn’t help but feel fear and revulsion mingled within her heart. Was any of the affection, any of the friendship, any of the loyalty and faith in her anything more than the result of a lifetime of brainwashing?

                “NO! God, no, Taylor!” Charlotte shouted, and Taylor realized she had spoken aloud. “I’m not brainwashed, or, or raised in some sort of _cult_! We didn’t worship your mother or anything like that, we just really respect her. I mean, for God’s sake, she was cast out of Heaven for trying to help Humanity! Granted, her version of helping was, at the time, a direct assault on Free Will and was explicitly forbidden by Our Father, but that’s not the point!”

                “Quite a few people would argue that it is.” Taylor commented dryly, mind racing as she parsed out what Charlotte was saying. “So, it’s just hero-worship?”

“I guess? I prefer to think of it as a deep and abiding respect for someone who sacrificed everything to do what she believed was right for the benefit of what amounted to an enormous number of younger siblings?” Charlotte managed to make her response sound like both a question and a statement in the same breath, which was mildly impressive on some level. “I mean, yeah she kind of assumed she knew better than _God_ , but I guess it’s the thought that counts. So did He, or at least your mom always thought so.”

                “Mmh, I remember her mentioning that in her journals. She always thought that the reason the original Grigori became Fallen instead of Devils like the The Morningstar was because of the difference between their causes for disobedience.” Taylor bobbed her head in understanding and agreement, before discarding the line of dialogue with a flick of her fingers to refocus on the more immediate subject of discussion. “It’s important to me that you decide how and why you really feel about me, Charlotte. I’m not rejecting you or your feelings, but until you can tell me- _convince me_ ­- that you care for the Taylor standing before me rather than the Taylor your mother’s stories led you to expect, I can’t be anything more than your friend and King.”

Frowning in unhappiness, Charlotte inclined her head in acquiescence and withdrew, mind already mulling over her King’s words as instructed. She knew her feelings for Taylor were genuine, but was the half-Fallen right that the choice had been taken from her by the manner in which she had been raised? She had certainly never thought about it before, really, because why should she? When she and her mom had _finally_ met Taylor, she had discovered that (understandable and _brief_ grumpiness aside) the girl she had spent most of her life preparing to be a friend and comrade to was exactly what she had always expected. Kind, generous, protective, sweet, loyal, and utterly gorgeous. She might occasionally be a little…random, _capricious_ even, such as that entire situation with Rune and Purity, but making off the cuff decisions was hardly rare for teenagers, fully human or not. Besides, she trusted Taylor’s insight when it came to things like that.

Maybe her mother’s vocal preferences for women had influenced her own taste in partner. Maybe her mother’s frank and embarrassingly open approach to sexuality and other ‘adult activities’ had made her more willing to acknowledge and express her own feelings. Those things very well might be true, she mused to herself, but even so that meant very little. She didn’t _have_ to love Taylor anymore than Emma did. There was no coercion, no insurmountable force pushing her into something against her will. She might have been placed in a situation where she was more _agreeable_ to such feelings, but those feelings were her own.

Nodding firmly to herself, she headed over towards her Spell-Forge. She had work to do, instructions to carry out on Taylor’s behalf, and by God those Power Limiters would get forged. They would be forged, and she was going to add a couple surprises to them as well. Let the villains rescue their compatriots from justice, as they always did. The rescues would be powerless and their every movement would be constantly tracked, exposing safe houses, meeting places, and the like. What else could she work on…hmm, perhaps she could try and duplicate the power of that choker Taylor hadn’t made use of yet. God knew that her King didn’t need the artifact yet, there wasn’t anything in Brockton Bay that would necessitate it’s not-insignificant defensive powers.

A smooth gesture, well-practiced at his point, woke her tools from their slumber. Runes glowed with eldritch energy, and she smiled to herself as she took up her hammer and turned to the anvil. There was peace here, in the monotony of the forge. In the steady rhythm of the pounding tools, the shaping of metal and magic. Here and now there was no doubt, no confusion, no anxious contemplations of her romantic future.

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                “Well, I don’t _see_ anyone acting particularly suspicious, but what the hell do I know. I’m not exactly a cop or a secret agent.” Parian grunted, peering through the dollar-store binoculars she had acquired for a little pre-meeting observation at the poorly-lit park Canary had invited The Holy Trinity to meet her in. “And the fact that it’s the middle of the night doesn’t help. Why did you not insist on meeting during the daytime, again? You gave me a reason, but it was so ludicrous I seem to have forgotten it.”

                “For one thing, they’re still in high school and didn’t opt for online classes like I did.” Canary responded dryly from where the blonde singer sat beside her. “For another, I don’t think a public meeting between us would be a good idea just yet. They’re already getting a lot of flack from people, and if anyone knew we were meeting up and chatting they would catch a lot more.”

                “Ah, yes, there it is. You realize, of course, that if anyone spots you meeting them in an out-of-the-way park at,” Parian paused a moment to glance at her watch. “quarter past eleven, it will look even worse? I mean, really Canary!”

                “Ah, its fine. We weren’t in costume when we left, so no one should have realized who we were. That means no paparazzi or creepy fan stalkers lurking in the bushes to plaster the lurid details of our nightly affairs all over the headlines!” her friend reassured her airily, and Parian had to concede that much. It was still a stupid plan, but it was true that no one would have any reason to follow the two of them all the way out here. Or, at least, no one that wouldn’t have already tried to kidnap, rape, or mug them by now.

                “That doesn’t mean this isn’t a terrible idea.” she grumbled with a sigh, surrendering to the inevitable. Honestly, her friend could be such an _idiot_ sometimes, but a loveable one still. At least she had been smart enough to bring Parian along for backup.

Unbeknownst to either of the Rogues, they weren’t the only ones within earshot of one another, and they weren’t the only ones watching the park either. The person listening and watching was not, in fact, those members of the independent hero group that they had come expecting to meet, but rather a single, truly independent individual. An individual who had not followed them there, but rather had discovered the meeting in another way entirely.

Sophia Hess, clad entirely in black clothes from Target or a Halloween store, was crouched behind a massive roof-mounted ventilation unit, hands clutching the grips of her twin miniaturized crossbows. She had followed Taylor and Co. here, having taken to following them whenever possible, in the hopes that they would give her the proof (or the opportunity) to remove the threat they represented by whatever means necessary. It had given her quite a scare when the two Rogues had clambered up onto the roof via the long, somewhat precarious fire escape, but what she had overheard after their arrival had gripped her heart in a fist of ice.

_They were voluntarily meeting with Hebert!_

She couldn’t believe it, and it was terrifying. Canary was a known Master, even if she never actually _used_ her power on anyone, and Parian was (while less famous than a pop idol) plenty well known within The Bay and its surrounding suburbs. It looked as though Purity wasn’t Hebert’s next target after all…or perhaps the Master was taking advantage of a golden opportunity? That was certainly possible, because Hebert was far from stupid. Unlike these two bitches, apparently, who despite their (or at least Parian’s) entirely accurate misgivings had still shown up! She wasn’t entirely sure she would save these idiots if not for the fact that leaving them as they were would only make Hebert stronger and more dangerous, and she wasn’t stupid enough to let _that_ happen!

Still, this provided a pretty significant opportunity of her own. Taylor-no, Hebert,- and her friends (Minions, damnit!) were primarily Blasters, which as a general rule meant they didn’t have any durability worth writing home about. If she could get in close and hit Hebert with a few crossbow bolts, this whole nightmare would finally be over.

_And Taylor will be dead…_

She snarled mentally, shoving the thought into the recesses of her mind with (unfortunately) practiced ease. Everything she knew about the ravenette was a _lie_ , dammit! She was evil, a Master bent on controlling everyone around her! Any feelings of, of, _friendship_ that she might feel for the angel-esque parahuman were entirely due to the other girl’s mental manipulations. Taylor was evil, Charlotte and Emma were brainwashed slaves, and Sophia was the only one who could stop them! She was sure of it! There was no place for doubt! No room for hesitation! She would do what had to be done!

Her resolve reaffirmed (not that it had faltered for even a moment, of course!), she stealthily moved toward the rim of the roof, now vacated by the people she was here to save from themselves, as they moved towards the park with thinly-veiled nervousness. While she would be using her power to move in for the kill and to phase her bolts into her targets, she wasn’t quite ready to sacrifice this vantage point, especially since said targets hadn’t even arrived yet.

Of course, she would have to move in the moment they became visible, because she would be utterly incapable of either hitting them or overhearing them from this distance. Her weapons of choice were quality-made, but miniature crossbows had a range somewhere between forty and fifty yards at best. Half a football field wasn’t _too_ bad, but she had to make sure her alpha strike was on target, and that meant closing the range. Fortunately, the last portion of distance could be done in her Breaker form. That would make the ambush all the more surprising, and therefore effective.

Naturally, she had no idea just how surprising the events of that night would be, but then self-confidence and a belief that her actions were justified were not traits that were lacking in the young woman’s psyche. Quite the opposite, in point of fact, to the point where most would be rather concerned about her… _stability in life._ Fortunately for her peace of mind, it took only another fifteen minutes for targets to arrive, ending the monotony before any uncomfortable thoughts could resurface from the dark, not-as-deep-as-it-used to be corner of her mind that she had shoved them into.

Seamlessly shifting into the black, smoke-like cloud that was the physical effect of her power, she moved through stone and steel to the ground and started to creep her way towards the five conversant girls, booted feet quiet on the macatum with the ease of long practice. She might enjoy putting the fear of God into her prey, of letting them know she was coming for them, but she wasn’t above learning to utilize stealth for necessary moments like this. It had taken time, but the concept was simple enough to learn and easy to execute when only had smooth pavement and grass to contend with. She had little doubt that she would be incapable of a similar stealth display in, say, the woods. Sticks, fallen leaves, animals spotting her…no, she doubted she could do quite so well in such a situation.

                “…urprised that you were willing to meet us in so private a manner. Gratified, of course, but I fully expected to be meeting you publicly in broad daylight. I had planned to put on something of a show afterwards, as a matter of fact. Another twig on the nose of the PRT, as it were.” Hebert’s voice was soft and amused as she settled in to spy and prepare her attack.

                “Ah, well, I didn’t think it would be a good idea to push quite that far. Your generosity in giving us a carte blanche to make the arrangements was very appreciated, and I didn’t want to spoil it by giving anyone even more of a reason to bash on you guys. Or me, for that matter. God knows people would have had you under my thrall before the hour was up if we met publicly, evil Master that I am.”

                “Well, we certainly appreciate the forethought and the delicacy with which you wanted to treat the situation. In the future, feel free to meet us in the open, we have little reason to care what bigoted idiots have to say and even less to be concerned about you Mastering us.” Hebert’s amusement grew even more pronounced at the final words, and Sophia stifled a scoff in response. Of course she wasn’t worried about getting Mastered, the pair were probably halfway under her thrall already!

                “Oh? Interesting. You either have a lot of faith in me, or you know something I don’t.” Sophia could practically here the eyebrows being raised on Canary and Parian, and couldn’t help but be a little curious herself. Sure, Hebert probably was already working them over, but maybe it was more than that. Maybe there was more to The Trinity than she thought?

Not that it would matter in the end.

                “Some of column A, a dash of column B.” Artificer drawled playfully, and Sophia could _definitely_ picture the smirk on her face. She knew enough about Charlotte to recognize the girl’s attitude, Stranger effect or not, even if she had already known from her _observations_ of them their identities. “We do believe in your restraint, most certainly, given your ridged adherence to your self-made code of conduct and your hatred for The Fallen. A hatred we are certainly beginning to share. The things that they have said to My King online…”

                “Invited you all to join their family and ‘take your rightful place’, did they? Some crude commentary about creating a ‘next generation of loyal servants to the Lords of Armageddon’, perhaps?” the scathing words were received by disgusted sounds of agreement, and despite herself Sophia couldn’t help but feel a moment of solidarity with the other girls. The Fallen were monsters, suspected not only of countless murders and thefts, but also of abductions of parahumans for, well, breeding. While two parahumans having a child didn’t guarantee the child would have power, it increased the likelihood significantly. Probably made the sick fucks feel oh so very impressive too, the bastards. And that didn’t even begin to get into their worship of the fucking _Endbringers_. Honestly, the only thing that could be worse is a cult dedicated to worshipping the Slaughterhouse Nine.

                “The Fallen are inconsequential. Pests at best, to be crushed at leisure when our home is safe.” Hebert’s voice was harsh, now, her loathing sufficient to drown out the confidence she had in her ability to carry through on her statement. “Once Brockton Bay and its people are safe from the likes of Lung and Kaiser, Heartbreaker and The Fallen will find me upon their threshold.”

 _There_ was the darkness that Sophia had known lurked within the girl, no matter how veiled she kept it, how pure she portrayed herself. Confidently passing sentence upon those she considered beneath herself, those she believed unworthy of life. She thought herself God, Sophia could tell that much with little effort.

The irony and hypocrisy, as well as willful self-deception, inherent in this thought process went utterly unnoticed. This was, perhaps, unsurprising given the inherent brokenness with which Sophia lived her life, and the rather skewed way with which she viewed it and the world at large. Left unchecked, this bizarre concept of existence and purpose could have turned her into nothing short of a monster, a villain in all but name.

Tightening her grip on her crossbows, she took a deep breath and steeled herself to attack. To kill someone that, despite all of her efforts to the contrary, she still admired and considered something very close to a friend. Someone who had the drive to actually _do_ something about this city’s problems. She shook her head viciously, forcing such thoughts away. She couldn’t allow as single moment of weakness or empathy, she couldn’t allow herself to think too deeply on Tay…her _target_.

 _No room for doubt, no room for empathy, no room for anything but blood._ She chanted to herself, totally not trying to psych herself up for the coming events. Unfortunately for her (or so she would believe for the time being, anyway), by the time she managed to force herself into the proper frame of mind, her golden opportunity had passed. Canary and Parian were leaving, and the Trio were watching them leave. No longer was Hebert distracted and vulnerable, but rather preparing to leave for home and saying her farewells.

                “I’ll see you both on the morrow. Get home safely and try to avoid drawing to much attention. We don’t want anyone tracking us home and unmasking us. It would be bad for everyone involved.” Taylor was telling the other two as she hovered a foot or so off of the ground. “My dad’s pulling a 48 to find some work for his people, so come by as early as you like.”

A handful of niceties were exchanged, and Sophia had the dubious pleasure of seeing Hebert blush as Charlotte made some rather sly and flirtatious comments before the group split, taking to the air and heading for their various homes. Smiling grimly to herself at the unexpected windfall she had just overheard, Sophia followed Taylor as quickly as she could. It didn’t take long for the flyer to outstrip her, given both the lack of obstacles and inborn speed, but Sophia had long since learned the home address of The Dockmaster and his daughter.

An hour later, and Sophia was perched in the only tree in Taylor’s yard, a tree that fortuitously gave her a perfect view into her fellow ravenette’s bedroom. A fact that Hebert seemed utterly unaware of, as she padded into view utterly nude and with the glistening skin of the freshly showed, toweling her hair with a surprising amount of roughness. Sophia couldn’t help a stab of envy as she compared her own form to that of Taylor. Sophia knew that she was attractive, intellectually. She was fit, her skin was smooth and had a dark complexion that many boys (and more than a few girls) seemed to find exotically alluring, and her breasts and ass were both of good size and fantastic firmness. Yet, despite this knowledge of her own attractiveness and sexuality, she felt remarkably plain in comparison to that which she was currently… _observing_.

She blushed darkly beneath her mask and unconsciously leaned forward as the statuesque woman -and a woman she was, with a body like that, regardless of her age- began to towel herself off, taking her time and almost seeming to dance as one motion smoothly flowed into another. Firm breasts swayed and bounced, and she found herself with a suddenly dry mouth as one long, flawless leg (the one closest to her, as it happened) was raised to rest on the footboard of the bed. There were shadows enough to prevent Sophia from getting an unimpeded eyeful, but somehow that made things all the more alluring.

She kept watching as Taylor finished drying herself off and dressed in a t-shirt and short-shorts before sliding into bed. Shaking her head, distinctly aware of the dampness in her panties (obviously sweat from the exertion of remaining crouched uncomfortably in a tree) and the soreness of her limbs, she Broke and coalesced back on the ground. Glancing up at Taylor’s window, she started to jog back towards her own home. She could always kill Taylor _tomorrow_ night, after all.

Or so she thought.

The next night, as she stared down at the sleeping, rumpled form of someone she loved (hated) and respected (feared), a large combat knife clenched tightly in one hand. She could, should, do it right now. One stab, straight to the heart, and Taylor would be gone before the pain could even register. No suffering, no anguish, no sorrow. Just…peace. And yet, the longer she looked down at the other girl, the more impossible it became to move. The more she remembered of Light, of the joyful moments she had never quite been able to avoid feeling when in The Trinity’s company. The jokes over the lunch, the cooperation on school work, the times they stood up for victims of bullying or cowed the sneering members of the Empire that bothered her daily. The passionate views on Justice, Faith, and Righteousness. The wrathful condemnations of villains and apathetic heroes alike, and the burning desire to make the city and the world a better place. That couldn’t have all been a lie, couldn’t have been entirely a façade! No one could speak the way Taylor, Charlotte, and Emma did if they didn’t believe in what they were saying! So, which were they: cruel Master and her brainwashed tools, or dear friends that happened to be powerful and fervent heroes?

Gritting her teeth, eyes damp with shame and relief mingled, she turned tail and fled, bursting into smoke and dashing away into the night. Her resolve and belief, confronted with two equally certain and believable versions of Taylor Hebert, had broken. She was a failure of a hero, too concerned with wishy-washy nonsense to even make up her mind about someone’s nature, never mind mete out justice upon the deserving. She was _weak_ , too goddamn weak to do what had to be done even if she _could_ figure out whether it had to be done at all! How could she be a hero if she was so easily swayed by doubts and personal affections?

So intent was she on fleeing, so blinded was she by self-flagellation and tears of confusion, that she did not notice the Taylor in bed shattering like glass into shards of light that dissipated into thin air. She neither saw nor heard the real Taylor following her, and she certainly didn’t notice Taylor watching her as she crawled into her own bed and cried herself to sleep.

                “Oh, Sophia. I knew I should have probed deeper long ago. How long have you suffered like this, I wonder?” the Nephilim sighed sadly as she gazed at her friend, both body and soul stained by pain and confusion and an overwhelming lack of Faith. Faith in herself, faith in others, faith in the world, Faith in God…all were absent. For all Sophia considered herself a strong girl, a warrior, a hero in the shadows, she was at her core a broken person desperately trying to fix the world because she didn’t know how to fix herself. Pouring everything she had into fixing the cracks and holes in the world, either unaware or in denial that every reckless action expanded her own just a little bit more. She would shatter entirely, before long, unless someone coaxed her from the cratered bunker of her psyche into the realization that she was only harming herself. That she could be greater and do more for the world if only she had the courage and the will to change and try.

A quick sparkle of power and a glimmer of Light soared from a pointed index finger to wrap around the sleeping young woman like a golden cocoon before fading, and Taylor smiled a little as Sophia’s breathing eased immediately a small, almost childlike smile of contentment grew on the athlete’s face. It was not something she preferred to do, as it felt far too much like Mastering someone, but if anyone needed a little Light and Hope pushed into them right now it was Sophia.

                “I’ll see you in the morning, Soph, and then we’ll see about lightening your Burdens a bit.” She promised quietly before soaring away.

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**So, Sophia has oddly voyeuristic tendencies, a semblance of morality and human decency that she is (foolishly) attempting to crush in a (deluded) belief that it makes her a bad hero. Well, I can promise you that her suffering will be over soon. Not to say she will be joining the Peerage anytime soon, but she will at least receive some mental relief and help. Oddly enough, the original version of this chapter had her attempting to assassinate Taylor in the middle of the conversation between the trio, Parian, and Canary. Then it occurred to me that she would probably try something a little more cunning if given the choice. She’s unstable and emotionally damaged, but she isn’t (despite what the fandom does with her character) a brainless moron. She never would have gotten away with a lot of the stuff she did (like keeping lethal rounds, etc) if she was entirely without cunning.**

**In case it wasn’t clear, this story is not intended to be anything remotely considered short. My outline has hit chapter twenty as of me writing this sentence and is barely out of what I could consider the introduction. This story is intended to be big, detailed, and complex. Real life doesn’t throw enemies at the heroes one at a time, and villains don’t politely wait their turn for their predecessors story arc to end so they can start their own.**

**If things don’t make sense to you yet, if something seems randomly placed in the story without cause, _wait and watch_. Everything will become clear in time. I do ask that you speculate or debate on the forums, though, because to see people doing so is immensely gratifying and deeply enjoyable. I especially enjoy it when people begin making _accurate predictions_ about the story, because it shows they are finding the valuable threads.**

**As always, edit the TV Tropes page to your heart’s content!**


	11. Chapter Nine

**At the end of this chapter, after the end Author Note is the first of the Trifecta sidestories, at least on the versions posted to FF and AO3. SB, SV, and QQ already have it in the sidestory section. As always, please consider adding your thoughts to the TV Tropes page!**

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Seraphim

Chapter Nine

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Cassie rose slowly, almost blissfully so, from the embrace of Morpheus as her consciousness returned to the waking world. She sat up and looked around, smiling despite herself at the room that she had in a small way begun to make her own. The apartment that Kayden owned was small but nice, with more than enough room for the two of them and little Aster, and she had to admit that she was greatly enjoying living somewhere _other_ than with her parents. Not that they were really deserving of the word, if she was going to be honest, but that wasn’t something she particularly felt like thinking about right now. She wrinkled her nose slightly, her brain waking up enough to realize it was smelling…

                “Cassie! Breakfast!” she heard Kayden call from down the hallway, right about the moment she realized she was smelling freshly-cooked bacon and eggs, which just so happened to be her favorite breakfast.

So she liked the stereotypical American breakfast, sue her.

Tossing her covers back, she slid out of bed and headed for the door with the ungainly haste of the eager but barely awake. Ignoring her rumpled appearance, T-shirt askew and shorts riding a little high, she padded down the hallway towards the kitchen from which the enticing smells were emanating. As she walked, she spared a few glances for what pictures there were on the walls. All of them were of Aster, naturally. One only had to be in Kayden’s presence for a matter of moments (out of costume, obviously) to know that her baby was the entire world to her.

                “Good morning, Cassie.” The older woman smiled warmly at her from the stove, and Cassie gave her a small smile in response before turning her attention to the happily burbling Aster. Offering the infant her finger, her smile grew as it was tightly gripped by one meaty fist and waved slightly side to side. “Hungry, I hope?”

                “Always. I might not be a teenaged _boy_ , but dieting isn’t exactly something I need to do to keep my figure when I spend the night outrunning rivals or the cops. Or outflying, I suppose.” She responded easily, pulling out one of the counter stools and sitting down with a languidness so natural only in youth. “It’s amazing how much energy flying around on cars or bits of concrete can be.”

                “I think that it is more likely the adrenaline burning calories than anything else,” Kayden commented dryly, putting a plate down on the countertop in front of her with a soft click of glass on linoleum. “But then again powers are strange. God knows I have to spend plenty of time in the sun after a particularly big fight, or I would be useless for the next one.”

                “Mmh, Ariana mentioned something about Kaiser having to set up a room full of halogen lamps for you a couple of times during the winter months to help you recharge.” Cassie bobbed her head in understanding, and Kayden rolled her eyes with a soft huff of laughter.

                “I can recharge just fine during winter, he just wanted to see me in as little clothes as possible.” She responded, shaking her head slightly with a look of distaste. “Max always wanted a pretty little display piece to boost his ego.”

                “That’s not fair! He loved you, and you abandoned him!” Cassie protested automatically, scowling at the older woman, who looked at her with something very like pity. Something that hardly improved her mood, especially because she knew that Kayden was at least partially right. Kaiser _had_ often gone out of his way to have Kayden on his arm in as flattering clothes as possible when in public, and she had heard him brag more than once about how she had ‘played hard to get’ but that he had ‘won her over in the end’ to other businessmen. And, whether she liked it or not, it wasn’t exactly news that Kaiser had something of an ego. A well-deserved one, as far as she was concerned, but it existed all the same. “You shouldn’t have left us, Kayden. It hurt a lot, in more ways than one. And don’t give me any cliched crap about ‘wanting to be a better person’ or how ‘becoming a mom changed your perspective.’”

                “Even if it’s true?” Kayden raised her eyebrows in the midst of coaxing Aster into accepting another spoonful of orange goop masquerading as food. “Is it really so hard to believe that having a baby could change someone’s perspective? It’s not like I was an Empire supporter my entire life, you know.”

                “So what! It’s not like Aster would have a bad life as the daughter of Max Anders! And Theo won’t make much of an heir the way things are right now!” the teen scoffed, tossing her blonde hair contemptuously.

                “Ever wonder why Theo is the way he is? Ever wonder why he’s so quiet and impersonal? It’s because Max didn’t want an heir that would question him or keep him from being the power behind the throne. He wanted a puppet, a copy of himself with no ideals or personality beyond what he installed. I won’t let him do the same thing to my baby.” The fierce determination in Kayden’s voice was equal parts declaration and warning, and Cassie swallowed an automatic response. Whether or not Kayden’s comments were accurate was probably not an argument she wanted to make at the moment, and all of that stuff had happened before her entrance into The Empire anyway. “Honestly, if you want to know something that really pushed my change of opinion, it was when I was raiding an ABB safehouse with some of the soldiers. It was in the middle of a residential neighborhood and plenty of the locals got caught in the crossfire. I came across a mother with her baby trying to hide from the fighting. The fear in her eyes, the way that she was shielding her baby like I was about to _attack_ it…like I was some sort of monster, an evil thing that hurt children for the sheer joy of doing so. I nearly threw up, it made me so fucking _sick_! You’ve had people look at you in fear and anger, Cassie, but I pray with all my heart that you never have such an experience as that.”

                “We don’t attack babies! Kaiser wouldn’t tolerate that!” Cassie protested firmly, appalled at the idea. Sure, they might not be _white_ , but they were still just babies!

                “C’mon, Cassie, you know as well as I do that plenty of Empire soldiers, and more than a few of the capes, would have no problem whatsoever with hurting kids and elderly people.” Kayden chastised her, a thread of disappointment entering her voice for the first time in the conversation. “After all, they’re still ‘members of the lesser races’, aren’t they? The Empire isn’t what you think it is Cassie, and Max is certainly no stalwart protector of the victimized Caucasian race. I wish I hadn’t ever gotten involved, but the past is what it is. I just hope you figure things out faster than I did.”

She could do nothing but watch silently as Kayden plucked a now-drowsy Aster from her high-chair and carried her off towards the master bedroom and the crib therein. Kayden was wrong, she knew, about Kaiser and the rest of The Empire. The Empire wasn’t formed from hate, but from hope. From a desire to protect people from the _statistically provable preponderance of crime from certain non-white demographics_ , to quote her leader. It was a gift, not a curse.

Wasn’t it?

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A small cloud of smoke rose from the roof of Brockton Bay General Hospital to mingle with the smog of the city air, a cloud of smoke that somewhat ironically had emanated from the mouth of The World’s Greatest Healer, The Girl Who Could Cure Everything: Amy Dallon, far more often addressed by her cape name of Panacea. Untamed brown hair hung loose around a face haggard by the countless hours of effort to help the people of her home survive another day, green eyes dull with exhaustion of both the physical and emotional sort as she took another drag on her cigarette.

One of these days she would have the courage to take some time off, she mused sardonically, absently tapping the ash off of the end. She would spend some time with friends, maybe go to the movies like a normal girl instead of obsessively healing anything and everything that crossed her path in some insane quest to absolve herself for sins she had never even committed. That was the worst part of it all, really. She had never abused her power, despite all manner of temptation and selfish desire. She had never used it to get her own way, to make herself rich, or to secure influence and favor from the wealthy and influential of the world. No, she spent her days salving her guilty conscience, a conscience that plagued her not with the memories of sins committed, but rather her _potential_ to commit those same sins.

 _Maybe Mom will tell me how much she loves me and Vicky will confess her undying desire for me at the same time_. She snorted aloud at the absurdity of it all. Oh, Carol never mistreated her, not even close. In a way, Amy would almost prefer that to the utter neutrality with which she was regarded. Her punishments were fair, her rewards were given when earned, and she was not left ignored during holidays or during family time. Underneath all of that agonizing _normality_ , however, was the seed of fear and discomfort that her adoptive mother always felt around her. She didn’t know why, and she knew a part of Carol loathed herself for feeling it, but it was there nonetheless. All she had ever been able to learn, thanks to almost constant badgering of her Aunt Sarah, was the fact that it had to do with something that had happened to Carol and Sarah when they had been teenagers themselves.

                “That’s not terribly healthy, you know. One would think someone of your skills and reputation would be painfully aware of just what smoking can do to your body.” A soft, almost musical voice pierced her thoughts, and she jumped with a shriek of surprise and startled fear. The edge of the roof suddenly loomed all to near and she flailed to retreat from the abyss. A firm hand griped one arm and pulled her back several feet, and once balanced she tore herself free and spun to look at her assailant.

                “You!”

                “Me. My humblest apologies for startling you, I had thought you had heard my approach. It seems the depth of your thoughts was greater than I had assumed and anticipated.” The statuesque form of Solace bowed slightly in respectful penance, and Amy settled her breathing, running a hand through her hair as her nerves calmed down.

                “Its…its fine. And don’t worry about this,” she responded finally, waving the stub of her cigarette to indicate of what she was speaking. “I can’t manipulate my own biology like I can my patients’, but anything harmful that enters my body is nullified anyway. Poison, fattening food, chloroform, sodium phenethyl…Anyway, what can I do for you, Miss Solace.”

                “It seems there are stories behind some of those that I would be rather unhappy to hear. I am glad that you escaped such situations, though I dearly wish you had never been exposed to them in the first place. To think anyone would be mad enough to try and harm someone like yourself is appalling and shocking in equal measure.” The Holy Trinity’s healer said sadly, before making a slight dusting-off motion with her hands and continuing. “My King suggested, and I happen to agree, that I extend to you an offer of cooperation for several projects, both long and short term.”

                “What kind of projects could you need my help with?” Amy blinked, surprised. “I mean, you can do everything I can, and then some.”

                “In a way, yes, but it is energy intensive the more severe a wound is, and I’m sure you know well the burden of making decisions based on Triage. Our hope is that collaboration between Artificer, myself, and you will allow us to not only help heal more people of this city at a greater pace, but develop tools to lighten the burdens on the doctors and Good Samaritans such as yourself. Furthermore, your familiarity with the human body is without compare.” Solace responded, scarlet hair shifting slightly as she paced, hands moving slightly to emphasis her words. “The first of, we hope, many such collaborations would be to cure those addicted to narcotics, alcohol, and other such vices of their suffering. Artificer is particularly interested to see if she can design an Object of Power that could alleviate their cravings, if not eliminate it all together. You know as well as we that many addicted to the creations of the gangs would abandon that life if given the resources to succeed.”

                “You’re not wrong about that, true.” Amy said slowly, brow furrowing in thought as she contemplated the proposal. It had merit, certainly, and she had more than once lamented that she could only ever cure the symptoms of addiction rather than the cause due to her own personal sandbagging efforts. Teaming up with Solace and Artificer would allow her to truly cure people without revealing the truth about her power. That was enticing for several reasons, not the least of which would be weakening The Merchants severely and crippling a good portion of the income for the ABB and Empire as well. No more drug-addicted prostitutes walking the streets in agony, either, which was another thing she could get behind. “I’m tentatively interested, certainly, though I would want to hear more details and be involved in some of the decision making before we finalize anything.”

                “Naturally, naturally. We would certainly not have you beholden to circumstances outside your control or agreement.” Solace assured her with a smile that made Amy blush faintly.

                “Wow, I didn’t think anyone but me or Crystal could make Ames blush like that.” An all-to-familiar voice commented, and she resisted the urge to groan in defeat as her sister arrived. Leave it to Vicky to arrive at precisely the moment needed to see something to tease her about. “So, which one are you?”

                “Manners, Vicky!” Amy sighed in exasperated fondness, shooting Solace an apologetic look. “Solace, my sister Victoria. Vicky, this is Solace.”

                “The healer, right? Damn good to meet you, anyone who makes my sister’s job easier is a friend in my book!” Vicky touched down and reached out with one hand for a shake, which Solace accepted with an air of bemused humor. “I’m guessing you wanted to work with Ames about something?”

                “Yes, a clinic to help cure people of substance addiction and _keep_ them cured, regardless of what substance happens to be their vice. Given your sister’s supreme knowledge of the human body, I had hoped we could partner our strengths to achieve success.” Solace responded with a nod and another smile, and Amy resisted the urge to smile as Vicky blinked and blushed faintly. It was amusing to see her sister reacting to someone the same way people reacted to her sister.

                “That’s a great idea! It would really fuck over the Merchants and the other gangs if you did!” Vicky enthused, posting her hands on her hips. “Hey, I was wondering if I could have a spar sometime? Just a friendly fight between comrades in heroing!”

                “Vicky, you can’t just…!” Amy sighed and rubbed her forehead tiredly. She loved her sister, she really did, but thinking ahead or thinking before speaking were decidedly _not_ amongst the blonde’s strongpoints. Which really perpetuated the stereotype, sad as it was to say. “I apologize for my sister’s lack of manners, Solace. She likes to test herself against strong opponents, and your group isn’t exactly weak.”

                “I do not mind, although I myself am trained only in the bare minimum of offensive spells. In fact, only My King is the true warrior amongst us thus far. I focus on defensive and healing measures, whilst Artificer prefers to craft Objects of Power to anything else.” Was the slow but genuine response. “I know that My King would love to have a friendly spar, provided she exercises the necessary restraint. In fact, perhaps we could make an event of it? She did wish to make a display of strength to ensure that none of the gangs begin to think themselves comparable to us. My King has little tolerance for any attempted ‘recruitment’ efforts on their part.”

                “Wouldn’t that just make them want to recruit you more? I mean, the stuff you guys have done already has to have caught their attention. Its not too much of an exaggeration to say that you could tip the balance in the city in favor of whatever faction you joined up with?” Glory Girl commented, frowning in mild offense at the ‘necessary restraint’ comment. She was invulnerable, she didn’t need to be handled with kiddy gloves!

                “If we make it clear that the cost of attempting to recruit us is too high, there is nothing to fear. Lung doesn’t seem to care about much of anything besides money and women, typical dragon behavior that, and Kaiser is a moderately intelligent man. Immoral, cruel, and a proponent of an outdated, horrific, and idiotic dogma, but intelligent. The only people that are really insane enough to try anything overt against us are The Merchants. They are hardly worth mentioning, much less any amount of concern.”

The sheer confidence that radiated from every word was staggering, and the two sisters couldn’t help but feel that it was a little reckless. They were highly competent, anyone with half a brain could tell that from their exploits, but the Empire capes were far from pathetic. They were a large, cohesive team whose skills and powers synergized quite well with one another. No matter how much raw power The Trinity might have, the Empire combined had far more, and vastly more experience.

                “At any rate, we’ll make it known on PHO when the event will take place, likely in a day or two. You’re both more than welcome to come and either participate or simply observe. Until then, fare thee well.” Solace said with a slight shrug after they simply stared at her in silence, too bemused to respond verbally. In a minute she was gone, winging her way across the city, and the two youngest Dallons could only ponder how strange it all was.

                “Meh, whatever. I don’t need to understand them to help them kick the shit out of some villains. C’mon Ames, it’s the end of your shift and you promised to go to the movies with me and the guys. No bailing out on me!” Vicky dismissed the conversation promptly after it ended, attention moving on to the next thing she considered to be important enough to remember, that being socializing.

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Hands folded behind his back as he gazed out the third story window of his primary safehouse, the one closest of all to earning the epithet of ‘home’, Kenta was deep in solemn contemplation. An expensive, beautifully crafted pipe rested on the table beside him, the sickly-sweet smell of highest-quality PCP-laced marijuana. Still lingering in the air as he took a break from his preferred method of non-carnal relaxation. It was amusing, really, how a drug well-known for causing aggressiveness and paranoid hysteria was the only thing that helped dampen the simmering rage in his heart that was the source of his power. Oh, he could control his power, certainly. He could decide how long to remain engaged, how long to allow himself to ‘ramp up’ before withdrawing, but it was a constant struggle not to lose himself to The Dragon.

It was only in moments like this when he could focus on other things, on deeper meanings and thoughts, ones that would doubtlessly come as a profound shock to everyone who had ever heard of him. Lung, after all, was not known for deep and meaningful conversations. Yet he did it all the same, and today he was evaluating the place of his faction within Brockton Bay.

He had long since considered leaving the city, finding greener pastures with which to expand his influence and peddle his wares. Those few heroes truly capable of defeating him had long since proven their disinterest in doing so, despite the close proximity of such heroic powerhouses as Legend and his New York Protectorate branch. He could certainly set up shop in any city he wanted, and likely could do so without even needing to spill a drop of blood. Such was his reputation and the dreaful awe with which he was regarded.

Yet, all this aside, he was unsure of such an idea. Unsure if it was truly worth it, and very much unsure about whether he wanted to give the impression that he was running away. His jaw clenched, a thrill of wrath darting through his veins as he thought of how _triumphant_ , how egotistically grandiose the theatrical Nazi leader would crow about ‘driving out the lesser races’ that swore fealty to The Dragon. He would be damned before he gave that man even the most petty and hollow of victories, but he was not stupid enough to think that he could annihilate the entirety of The Empire’s parahuman strength alone. Not without many getting past him to wreak havoc in his territory and visit suffering upon his people.

Oh, he was no paragon, no just and wise leader that loved and was loved by all those who followed him. But the ABB and those under its protection were _his_. His servants, his soldiers, his hoard. They gave him respect, influence, wealth and women. To allow them to be laid low would weaken him, even embarrass him, and these were things that could never be permitted. His pride, the pride that had driven him to challenge and defeat the whole of the Protectorate East-North-East in a single battle, would not permit it.

                “Lung-sama.” The voice of Oni Lee drew his attention, and he turned to face the _oni_ -masked man.

                “Lee, you have a further report to give me?” he responded evenly, lifting his pipe and tapping the remains of his previous session into an intricately carved jade ashtray.

                “Yes, Lung-sama. According to the new group and some eyewitness statements, Purity has indeed quit the Empire. She focuses on ourselves and The Merchants out of lingering loyalty for her former comrades and fear of reprisal against her family and her civilian life.” The other man responded, even as Lung refilled the pipe and lit it with a deft flick of his wrist. “It is very doubtful that she will intervene on their behalf, though she and these newcomers may intervene for those caught between our forces and those of Kaiser.”

Grunting his acknowledgement, Kenta inhaled deeply, allowing the smoke to fill his lungs. With Purity off of the field, the greatest irritant of The Empire was gone. Oh, Kaiser was dangerous, certainly, and his pet giantess twins were not insignificant, but a flying blaster posed a far greater problem for his people to combat than the rest of their roster. After all, the rest of the Empire capes were land-bound, able to move only by the means of their own two feet. Able to move only within his grasp, able to be ground beneath his taloned feet and purged by searing flame.

                “Good, very good. Begin the preparations to move against the Empire. Instruct the soldiers to begin probing their territories. Discover how quickly they respond to what areas of the border and whom they send. I will not tolerate failure in this battle, Oni Lee, and if knowledge of our enemy will secure our victory than it is knowledge that we shall gather. Do not disappoint me.” He ordered, turning back to the window as his servant withdrew with a respectful bow. He had proven his personal strength in battle time and time again. Now he would prove the strength of his mind. He would trap his enemies, herd them before him until they were trapped like rats, and like rats he would destroy them utterly. Whether they fled or were rendered to ash, he cared little enough. In the end, The Dragon would rule this city, and all within it would pay homage to his might.

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                _“Hana, I want you out of costume and mingling with the crowd. Several of the Wards will be doing the same, in addition to observers in uniform, but I want to know what you see or hear that differs from their own experiences. This…display concerns me, and there is a lot of pressure from other Directors and politicians to get a handle on ‘The Trinity’. We’re flying blind, and that is intolerable.”_

Those had been the orders from the Director when word arrived that The Holy Trinity were holding a ‘display’ down on the boardwalk, one where they invited anyone to make inquiries or even spar with them. According to the PHO post they had used to make the announcement, the gathering would be enforced neutral ground, and whomever broke the peace (be they hero or villain) would be forced to leave by whatever means were necessary. A bold move, and a dangerous one, but one the PRT couldn’t raise too much of a fuss about. The goodwill The Holy Trinity had garnered through their actions and their _noblesse oblige_ towards Purity had the citizenry enthralled and firmly in support of their actions. The three angels of The Bay had promised a day of entertainment with enforced nonviolence and neutrality? Fantastic, make a family day out of it!

Now here she stood, dressed in a light jacket and windbreaker pants, on one of the concrete lots that in a month or two would probably be a skate part or basketball court. Today, however, it was the center of attention for natives of The Bay and beyond, with The Holy Trinity delighting young and old alike with beautiful and artistic displays of ‘magic’. Brightly colored spirals of light swept and swam through the sky, and more than one child squealed with delight as dragons, eagles, and deer pranced and capered and flew before them. She herself couldn’t restrain a small smile at the beauty of the display and the joy it was obviously bringing to the crowd, well aware that the people of the city rarely had the opportunity to enjoy their lives without fear that a brawl between gangs could erupt and even grow into a larger conflict.

It was strange to her, that a group that had thrived on mystery for so long would do something so public and dramatic. Oh, their debut had been dramatic, and they had certainly been moving openly since then, but to reveal sizable hints of their abilities simply to entertain the populace was a grave risk. The balance of power amongst parahumans was delicate and relied quite heavily on the power of knowledge. The more your enemies knew about your powers and your method of fighting, the easier it was for them to counter you in combat and force you into an untenable position. So why would these three young women do something so public as this, never mind the public sparring that they had promised to offer? Why would they refuse formal power testing at The Rig, where their powers and skills would be kept secret, yet perform in the open?

She rocked slightly on her feet as a young man bumped into her on his way through the crowd. Nodding absently at his mumbled apology, she was entirely prepared to ignore it when a large hand landed on the youth’s shoulder, causing him to flinch and stare up at the man that had stopped him.

                “Why don’t you give the lady her belongings back, hmm?” the man said firmly, though not unkindly, and Hana’s eyes went wide as her dominant hand dropped to the pocket she kept her wallet when out and about as a civilian. It was _empty_ , and she was flabbergasted as the blushing-and-glowering teen pulled it out of his own pocket and handed it over. “Good, now why don’t you head on home before you get yourself into trouble with someone less forgiving than us.”

                “Thank you for that. I can’t believe I was distracted enough to miss him pulling that off.” She turned her focus to her rescuer, and found herself blushing faintly as he smiled at her warmly. Tall and thin, she might have been fooled into thinking he was just another cubicle worker, if not for the dense and wiry muscle displayed by the t-shirt he was wearing. His eyes, brown with hazel flecks, appraised her with interest that did not stray into leering or oogling. Offering her hand for a shake, she introduced herself. “Hana Washington.”

                “Daniel Hebert, and it was my genuine pleasure, Miss Washington. Kids like him need a bit of a scare to keep them straight, especially in this city. Maybe the embarrassment of being caught by an old man like me will help.” He chuckled at his self-depreciating joke, and she frowned at him playfully.

                “Now, Mr. Hebert, you’re hardly an old man! And please, call me Hana.” She said, and laughed politely at the stereotypical ‘I look for my father’ comment as she was granted permission to use his own first name. “So, what brought you here today? Enjoying the show yourself, or…?”

                “Just me, I’m afraid, to enjoy a brief break from work to watch something deeply inspiring. I can tell you for a fact that some of the people here with their kids are from rival gangs, but _none of that matters_. Right now, the only thing that matters is letting their kids have a good time.” He told her, tone and facial expressions giving no hint of deception, and she felt her eyebrows raise a bit involuntarily. It certainly wasn’t an outlandish claim to make, given the prevalence and manpower of the gangs in the city _everyone_ knew at least one person in one of the gangs. Still, the easy confidence with which he spoke was as intriguing as it was alluring. “How about you, why are you here?”

                “Much the same, honestly. I’ve heard about what sort of things these three have done for people in this city, and I wanted to see it for myself. Besides, it isn’t often that something good happens in Brockton Bay without someone spoiling it with a fight or two. Even the movies…” Hana trailed off, recalling the cleanup for a fairly recent brawl that had broken out at the downtown cinema during a matinee. No one had died, fortunately, but more than a few bystanders had been badly hurt and the cinema had been closed for nearly two weeks.

“Yeah, I heard about that. I would have thought they could keep to themselves long enough to watch an Aleph import, but maybe it was just wishful thinking on my part.” He nodded a little sadly, before stepping up beside her and returning his gaze to the group. “So, do you mind telling me about yourself?”

                “Only if you return the favor.” She responded, receiving a head bob of agreement, and she settled herself as she fell into the routine of giving her cover story, a delicate balance of truth, half-truths, and outright lies. “I’m a security trooper for the PRT, though sometimes I get shuffled over to paper-pushing. Not what I like to do with my life, but oddly enough there are policies for how long someone can be in the field uninterrupted.”

There had been an immense debate amongst the Protectorate/PRT higher-ups about how to handle cover identities for the various affiliated heroes. Many would, accurately, argue that having a Kurdish-American woman of a certain age claiming to work for the PRT in a city within which the famed Miss Militia lived and worked was tantamount to suicide. Anyone would be able to put the pieces together, after all, if they decided to put sufficient effort into the task. That being said, most Americans (most people not native to the Middle East _period_ ) couldn’t tell a Kurd from a Turk from an Egyptian, but they might take notice of a woman with such descriptions going to PRT/Protectorate stations with a distinctly _furtive_ behavior. As a result, a broader and adult version of the Ward Protection Program was put in place. Four or five people of similar traits to the various heroes were carefully selected to act as a smokescreen for said heroes. Combined with The Unwritten Rules, it was more than sufficient.

Daniel, she learned, was the Head of Hiring for the Dockworkers Association. An increasingly defunct organization, given the lack of usability for the port. Still, he hoped to someday convince some altruistic parahuman (or filthy rich businessperson) to help him move the debris and make the port usable again. He quite accurately pointed out that the decay of the city had truly begun when the docks were rendered unusable, and so it was logical to assume that the city would improve with them functioning again. If nothing else, the people joining a gang for the sake of getting the money to survive would have another, more legal option of employment. Yes, that would paint a target on his back, but that didn’t really matter all that much as far as he was concerned. She could admire, _did_ admire, the fact that he was unwilling to let his home waste away around him when he could do something about it, regardless of the danger.

Their conversation regrettably came to a halt when Glory Girl and Seraphim squared off for ‘a friendly spar’.

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Vicky couldn’t restrain a wild grin of excitement, fists clenching and unclenching rhythmically as she stared across the court at her opponent. The lazy, loose stance that Seraphim stood with was none the less well-balanced. Even she could tell that, despite her utter lack of official training in hand to hand combat, and it was thrilling. The best she got to fight most of the time were unpowered thugs who at best could only brawl, if they did anything more than shoot wildly in her general direction with whatever guns they possessed. The chance to fight someone as capable as Seraphim was a dream come true, especially because she wouldn’t have to hold back as much. She _hated_ holding back, partly because she was so bad at it, but mostly because it stressed Amy out and gave her extra work.

                “Now, this will be a _friendly_ spar. Seraphim will be using nothing more than her physical abilities, have no fear of collateral damage. Oddly enough, lobbing around exploding spears of light while standing in the middle of a crowd is a bad idea.” Solace’s voice was dry, an amused quirk to her lips, and the crowd chuckled obligingly. “At any rate, this is for fun more than anything else. Give all of you a bit of a cape show that doesn’t involve risk to life and limb for everyone within the nearest square mile.”

The crowd laughed again, but this time it was quickly stifled. All eyes were locked onto the two teens, neither of whom moved for nearly a full minute, before Seraphim slowly raised one hand and twitched her fingers in a ‘come hither’ gesture, smirking at Victoria. An instant later, Vicky was rocketing across the intervening distance with her dominant arm drawn back for a ground-shattering punch…which hit nothing whatsoever as Seraphim calmly shifted out of the way, looking almost as if she were floating rather than walking. Eyes narrowed, Vicky attempted to close again. Obviously, the first attempt had failed because of the distance between them.

Or so she had though. Every punch she threw, and even the clumsy but powerful kicks that were interspersed with them, failed utterly to strike her opponent as Seraphim shifted, flowed, and wavered around them like water. It was galling, but it was somewhat exciting as well. A _challenge_ , a fight she didn’t win in one punch!

Seraphim, meanwhile, was feeling distinctly disappointed with the young heroine. She was reckless and untrained, throwing haymakers and sweeping kicks that would have her fatally off-balance if not for the fact that she was capable of flying. Even then, a properly trained (or experienced) opponent would make mincemeat out of her, though she supposed the invincibility Glory Girl possessed permitted (and doubtlessly encouraged) her method of fighting. The Siberian ripping out one of Alexandria’s eyes, however, should certainly have shown the world that invulnerability could still have definitive limitations. _Still_ , she mused to herself as she batted aside another punch and sent a palm-strike into Victoria’s sternum. _There is something to be said for passion and determination. Perhaps I should offer her some training. If she actually knew what she was doing she would be a much better hero than she is already._

The spar didn’t last much longer than that, given circumstances and the disparity of strength and skill. Honestly, no one had expected otherwise, because Glory Girl wasn’t known for anything other than collateral damage due entirely to recklessness and an inability to think things through. Still, it had been entertaining and enlightening, and it was obvious that there were no _particularly_ hard feelings. What hard feelings _did_ exist were assuaged by an offer to patrol together and for Victoria to learn a few ‘tricks’ from the angelic heroine.

                “How about a real show? A little play between a mouse and a crow?” a cheerful voice chirped from within the crowd, which parted with surprised eyes to reveal the grinning form of arguable the hammiest and most famous independent hero alive. The Protector of The Small. The Knight of Mice. One of the very first Wards, and the only one of their number to leave the Protectorate when she came of age.

Mouse Protector.

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                **I hope that the AU-ish elements in this chapter were adequately explained, though it is AU only because I do not recall (nor have search efforts found) anything canonical on what cover identities the adult heroes possess. There is no logical reason to assume that they wouldn’t be monitored or tracked by enemies, so I figured an adult version of the Ward protective measures would be a logical addition to the story.**

**As for the display put on by The Holy Trinity, this was very deliberate for the reasons depicted in the story. They are playing a long game, a propaganda effort in effect. They know people are uncomfortable with their appearance, power, and lack of oversight and apparent constraints. So, they make themselves friends of the people as a method of protection.**

**It will also irritate the PRT/Protectorate. Especially with Mouse Protector getting involved!**

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_Fear._

_Impact._

_Pain._

_LoathingandFear._

_Darkness…_

Two silver eyes shot open and darted around their surroundings before darting to her arms and legs. Bound to a wall spread-eagled, naked as the day she was born, by chains that could not possibly be of human origin for several reasons. Not the least of which that she couldn’t manifest her wings or break herself free. Not even parahuman bindings could hold her, no power could bind an Angel of her experience and power unless she wanted it to. That meant it was a faction from her old homeworld, and given her partial memories and impressions of the accident, she knew it was an enemy.

                “Oh good, you’re finally awake. I was beginning to grow bored, and was entertaining the idea of waking you up with a dash of torture. Simply a warm up for the main event, a down payment on the rather significant amount of blood and suffering you owe me, of course.” A disgustingly familiar voice, smooth and refined, filled the silence of the room as a silver-haired man, richly dressed in finery, stepped into her view with predatory grace.

                “Well, if it isn’t my stupid eldest brother’s favorite brat. I’m surprised you could muster the courage and the intelligence to cross the Dimensional Gap to find me even once, never mind twice.” She sneered in response, derision and mocking contempt dripping from every word. A snarl of fury swept over her captor’s face, and she screamed in pain as lightning sank into her flesh, lighting her nerves on fire and scorching her nerves.

                “Haa, how terribly rude of you to speak ill of your deceased sibling. You Fallen filth truly are the scum of the earth. Only humans are lower than you, useless monkey’s that they are.” He sighed, running one hand through his silver bangs as he shook his head, anger hidden behind a veneer of propriety once more. “Honestly, you surely didn’t think that you could avoid me forever, did you _Azrael_?”

                “I go by a different name now.” She responded coldly, though she couldn’t hide the flinch the ran through her at the name of her God-given form of address.

                “Ah, yes, a _human_ name. It’s quite sad you know, Azrael. Your little rebellion against that dead being you so proudly called father has ensured your name was struck from the records of his faithful. His legions of mindless faithful are not taught to speak it, in fact you are never spoken of at all. How terribly _sad_.”

                “I did what was necessary to protect my beloved youngest siblings, as did all of my Fallen kin.” She retorted passionately, eyes burning with an in-born fire. “They did not, _do not_ , know what is best for them. It is the duty of the elder children to guide the younger and protect them, especially from their own foolishness. They must be safeguarded against monsters like you, Rizeveim Livan Lucifer. Whatever the cost to myself. Besides,” she smirked at him, eyes laughing, mocking him as her tone turned to taunting. “Let’s just admit that you’re still sore about me robbing you blind. How many artifacts did I give to my brothers and sisters, how many did I take with me to other realms? 10? 20? 100?”

                “75 artifacts of immense value, yes.” The grandson of the First Satan admitted through gritted teeth. “I confess that your little heist was impressive, even if you take into account the utter incompetence of my guards. How they could fail to even slow you down for a moment escapes me entirely.”

                “Come now, you surely didn’t expect such trash, low level devils to slow me down, did you? I, the Fallen Archangel, the Aspect of Death, and veteran of The Great War of Heaven and Earth?” she scoffed in amusement, and he tilted his head as if in thought before nodding slowly.

                “Oh, I suppose you are a bit beyond their grasp. Why, even today there are not many who could hope to match you in the power you possessed then. But you have grown weak, Azrael, after your long indulgence of the humans. Your recent centuries have been spent rolling in the mud with the rest of them, and it has left you vulnerable. The legendary Chooser of the Slain, the Valkyrie of The Watchers, would never have been laid so low by a simple mortal car accident.” He waved her comment off with a leer of triumph and disgust. “You are nothing compared to your self of The War, and so you are nothing to me now.”

He turned and started to walk away with a casual stride, utterly dismissing her as inconsequential.

                “Get back here you bastard! Set me free and I’ll show you just how strong I still am!” she shouted after him, but he didn’t even pause in his gait.

                “Why bother? You’re a toy for my entertainment now, Azrael. There is no escaping from here, and no rescue will ever come. After all, no one knows that you are here, and no one ever will. Sleep well, the fun and games begin in the morning!” he responded over his shoulder lazily raising one hand in farewell, before a door dropped down behind him with an echoing boom, leaving her alone in the darkness.

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**So, yeah. Its short, but its only a small sidestory snippet. More will come eventually. As for why I chose Azrael to be Annette’s true name, there are a few reasons:**

  1. **Azrael is never named or referenced in the Christian Bible. He is not regarded as either canonical _nor_ non-canonical in Christianity. This is, in story, because she rebelled against God alongside Azazel.**
  2. **Azrael is the angel of Death, Retribution, and _Renewal_. That last point is going to be significant.**
  3. **Her nature as Death and Retribution will also be significant in influencing _Taylor’s_ That is all I have to say without straying into true spoiler territory.**



 


	12. Chapter 10

**Sorry this chapter took so long, I blame The Division 2. Not as good as the first one, but still a lot of fun, and I do enjoy the group content. I’ll enjoy it a lot more when Survival Mode comes out (which it had damn well better), but its tolerable in the meantime.**

**Chapter is a bit serious in the second half, but hopefully the characters explain their thoughts and feelings sufficiently for you all to understand them. We are also drawing very close to the first significant deviations from canon that happen _in story_ as opposed to in the _backround_ of the story. That is, the first major things the characters themselves do as opposed to something that happened in the past without their involvement. Purity, Emma, and Sophia are truthfully minor deviations in the grand scheme of things.**

**As always, edit the TvTropes as you like, consider supporting my work, and leave thoughts in reviews or forums. I welcome any omakes, edit suggestions, and speculative discussion!**

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Seraphim

Chapter 10

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The crowd watched with bated breath as Mouse Protector and Seraphim stared each other down. It was rare indeed for the independent former Ward to leave her home city for anything besides S-class fights, and while there were videos aplenty of her exploits, the chance to see such a famous cape fight without being in danger was exciting. This was a woman who was a contemporary of Chevalier, Miss Militia, and Reed. She had been fighting for years, longer than Seraphim had been alive (based purely on appearance, of course), and was a high-level Mover who focused on melee combat.       

“A little mouse appears in my house, whiskers and nose twitching. How adorably bewitching.” Seraphim responded after a moment of contemplation, and Mouse’s grin widened while more than a few people (subtly, so as to avoid notice) closed their eyes and groaned in amused despair. Someone was actually _playing along with Mouse!_ A nightmare come true, surely! “And to sneeringly call me a crow, as if it were attempting to taunt me? I’ll have the mouse know that the crow has been worshipped by countless cultures! Who could worship a measly mouse in the dirt below when the noble crow flies in the sky above?”                   

“Haa?! An insult, a cruel and malicious! How you wound this noble mouse with the piercing talons of your vicious words!” Mouse clasped a hand over her heart, feigning great pain and sorrow at the angel’s words. “What creature could be more noble, more delightfully devious and catastrophically cute than the magnificent mouse? I demand satisfaction, the balm of combat to soothe my sundered heart! Have at thee, cur! Alea Iacta Est!”

One hand was quite suddenly filled with dice, a slight of hand doubtless mastered by an absurd number of hours at practice. With a dramatic fling of her hand, the dice flew threw the air and fell like a rain upon the field, before the hero vanished with the soft pop of displaced air. A heartbeat later she was behind the teen, armored leg arcing around in a roundhouse kick. Caught entirely off-guard, Seraphim was forced to take the blow and absorb its impact, dropping into a forward roll to disperse it.           

“Aha! The noble mouse strikes the first blow! To ground goes the crow, dust in her feathers!” came the cry of victory, fists posted on hips, but she was forced to teleport again with a pop and a squeak as Seraphim flash-stepped back towards her with a kick of her own.            

“The crow was surprised that the mouse could reach her so quickly.” Seraphim admitted with a slight scowl, though it seemed directed more at herself than otherwise. “In fact, the crow is deeply impressed…”

Once again, Mouse was on the offensive before she could finish speaking. The former Ward had worked hard to develop and perfect her method of hand-to-hand, which relied on using her Mover skill to confuse her opponents and hammer them from more directions than they could properly defend themselves. The human mind wasn’t meant to keep up with that kind of constant, rapid movement, and the helpless confusion and baffled anger that it caused her opponents to suffer eroded their ability to think and fight effectively.

Though the Nephilim was superior mentally and physically by dint of her hidden (if mostly restrained) nature, it was apparent that she was badly lacking in experience. Her fights in the past had involved the use of aerial bombardment with Blaster powers, or blitzing normal thugs with inhuman speed. Against a trained, powered physical opponent, she was painfully untrained. It was, to the crowd, like watching Seraphim’s spar with Glory Girl, except this time the ravenette was the one being beaten. At least, that was how it appeared to those untrained eyes that were watching. To Hana’s perfect memory and well-trained eye, it was obvious that Mouse was working harder than she appeared. Unable to properly predict her opponent’s mobility, Seraphim had resorted to counter-strikes. Whenever she successfully predicted and intercepted an attack, she would lash out with her off-hand and aim for vital points. Some hit, but many missed as her opponent would already be on the move again.               

“Fascinating. Her teleportation is instantaneous, or at least it appears to be. Our King is faster than she is, even with the limiters on her, but still she is able to teleport away. It is as though she is able to do multiple things at once, mentally. She is, somehow, able to mentally focus on teleporting in, striking a weak point, and teleporting to the next place simultaneously.” Solace commented to Artificer quietly, and the item-crafter nodded slowly, sharp eyes on the ongoing fight. “That is obvious simply from what we are seeing, but how?”          

“It would make sense for a Mover to have a minor Thinker power allowing their minds to function at the speed necessary to actually utilize their power, just like it allows their bodies to function at unnaturally high speed.” Artificer suggested thoughtfully, one gauntleted finger tapping on the elbow of her opposite arm. “They wouldn’t be able to function otherwise, I would assume, at least not with their powers in use.”

Both winced sympathetically as an armored elbow slammed into their King’s ribs, sending her back a handful of places, and then they winced again as a fist of retribution hammered the armor over Mouse’s left kidney. Both combatants were beginning to hold back less, and the fight was escalating as both parties began to lose themselves in the thrill of combat with a capable opponent. Someone would need to intervene and put a halt to things soon, before the spar escalated to the point of endangering anyone involved or observing. Sighing to herself, Solace stepped forward onto the field.                 

“Alright, both of you. That is more than enough, for now.” She intoned with a clap of her hands, a small shockwave emanating from them as a pointed method of getting their attention, and both halted in the midst of combat, limbs poised mid strike or block. There was an impressed, if irritated, rumble from the crowd at the utter control displayed by the cessation of the spar, though they would rather the spectacle had continued. “I trust you both enjoyed yourselves sufficiently?”            

               “The great mouse is satisfied with the paltry competition provided by her opponent.” Mouse sniffed haughtily, laughter rippling through the crowd at her dramatically upturned nose and Seraphim’s answering snort of amusement. Grinning devilishly, the independent continued. “The great mouse also looks forward to cutting lose the next time they spar, without fear for the safety citizenry halting the fun! Farewell, good people!”

There was another pop as she teleported away for the final time, leaving the crowd to begin dispersing with a soft chatter as they talked about the events that they had witnessed over the last few hours. Of particular note was Mouse’s presence in The Bay, something none of them had expected. Outside of Endbringer fights, she rarely left her home territory of Chicago, certainly not without significant cause. Had she taken notice of Seraphim for some reason, one that gave her cause to come all this way? It was intriguing for sure, and for those involved in a criminal enterprise a bit of fear. A teleporting melee specialist fighting for the PRT could tip the balance further, because unlike Seraphim’s people she probably wouldn’t resist the opportunity to throw down with the villainous capes of the city.

The wind seemed to be changing once more, and they would have to adapt with it if they wanted to survive.

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Taylor could barely restrain a squeal of delight as she watched her father exchanging farewells with a dusky skinned woman that she recognized all too well from her forays into the future. She had worried that she would have to dedicate further time tracing the threads of Fate in order to _arrange_ a meeting between them, but it seemed they had managed without her assistance. Now she just had to figure out who the other woman was, get them all to be friends, and slowly move them towards accepting the idea of a polyamorous relationship! Simplicity itself, surely!

Humming happily to herself, and resolving to properly grill her father about his future lover later that night, she took to the sky and winged her way to her next objective: the home of Sophia Hess. Hopefully, the other girl would have considered the details revealed in their last conversation and come to understand them…

_“You know, when Annette brought home rival heroes and villains for a sordid romp, she at least made sure that they were awake at the time.” An older woman’s voice commented, and Sophia frowned sleepily in confusion. That didn’t sound like her mom, and it seemed a little bit to real to be nothing more than a dream. Her mind grumbled as it was forced to work, shifting through whatever information it had in an attempt to figure out what was going on. “Looks like she is waking up. I do hope you girls know what you are doing, bringing her here like this.”_

_“I really don’t want to know what my mother got up to with you, and I especially don’t want to know about whatever adventures resulted in her bringing extra people home…” a very familiar voice responded, sounding as tired and exasperated as it did fond. She knew that voice, but she couldn’t quite remember who it was or from where._

_“There were two rather delightful heroes that we entertained a few nights, after particularly significant fights against larger-scope villains. One had a truly exotic accent,_ very _attractive, and the other was very…dedicated to her. It was adorable, really, even if they both swore that they were straight as an arrow and only saw each other as sisters. I suppose near-death experiences tend to result in loosened ideals…and belts.”_

_“For the love of God, mother, please stop talking. I have no idea why you enjoy teasing Taylor so much, but you can’t possibly mean half the things that you say. This kind of stuff doesn’t happen in real life!” that voice was familiar too, and she could almost grasp who the speakers were…_

_“Says the person who is actively trying to pop into bed with her King and gather a harem for her.” A third voice mumbled, and Sophia’s eyes flew open as she finally woke up enough to recognize them. It was the Trio, along with someone else! She sat up like a shot, hand scrabbling under her pillow for a knife that wasn’t there, realizing that she was no longer within her room at home but rather on a couch in an unfamiliar living room._

_“Good Morning, Sophia.” Taylor said softly, a warm smile on her face, one that was probably meant to be reassuring. Terrified, she reached for her power and tried to Break, only to gasp sharply as nothing happened, a small burning sensation on her right ring finger. Looking down, she saw a simple brass ring resting there, a small crack crawling before her eyes across its face. “Ah, sorry about that. We had to Bind your powers until we finish talking. Don’t worry, its only temporary. Once that ring breaks, everything will go back to normal.”_

_“Should have let me put something more permanent on her. Need I remind you that she tried to assassinate you in your bed?” Emma said frostily, and Sophia flinched away from the burning, almost seething, glare the redhead was spearing her with. A sharp look from Taylor had Emma subsiding with an inaudible grumble, her glare hardly relenting, and Sophia tensed as those green eyes returned to her._

_“She couldn’t do it, Emma. She knew that she was wrong, knew that her conviction of our villainy was not nearly as strong as she believed. She saw a friend sleeping, not a monster to kill. Isn’t that right, Sophia?” Taylor’s voice was soft, sympathetic and warm, and Sophia bristled as fear turned to fury within an instant._

_“I was weak, too weak to do what was necessary, and now you fucking kidnapped me out of my own house! You better not have touched my family, you fucking Master bitch, or I swear to God that I…” she started to snarl, only to snap her mouth shut against her will as Taylor’s eyes blazed a bright, shinning gold._

_“Oaths made to Our Father can be all too binding, Sophia Hess. I suggest you mind your words, lest you find yourself in real trouble.” The slightly echoing voice rebuked her, before those eyes gentled once more and the voice continued more normally. “Your family is fine, untouched, and they will stay that way. You are right about many things, Sophia, but wrong about far more. I’m not a Master, not a parahuman at all. Certainly not a villainous one. What I am, Sophia, is more than you can imagine at this moment.”_

Of course, Sophia had been less than receptive of the fact that Taylor and her two friends were half-angels, even less so that she could turn others into Nephilim (she had shouted the word ‘Master’ a lot after that bit, and ‘not in the fun way’, to quote Charlotte), but she had begrudgingly agreed that she felt Taylor genuinely wanted to do good. Naturally, she had hastened to add that good intentions couldn’t possibly make her any less dangerous, that it could in fact only make her more so, but that concession was a damn good start. She had demanded to be returned home and left to herself for a day to think about what she had been told, promising that she wouldn’t go to the PRT or reveal their identities. Whether it was from a silent expectation her family would be kept out of the ‘firing line’, a code of honor, or simple fear that they wouldn’t allow her to leave if she was anything but honest, they didn’t know. Frankly put, it didn’t matter either. They could sense the honesty within her as she made that promise, and it certainly wouldn’t hurt her perception of them if they took her at her word, rather than resorting to some form of coercion. Graceful generosity made more friends than implicit intimidation, after all.

Weaving an illusion around herself, she descended onto the sidewalk beside a 7-11 and concealed her wings before unveiling her face. As far as anyone in the area could tell, she had just walked out of the store with a bottle of water, which she did actually possess. Sipping away, the soothingly cool water sinking into her bones, she set off down the street for Sophia’s home. It was interesting, this section of town, in that while it was technically claimed by The Merchants, they never actually showed up to peddle their wares or rob the stores. Apparently, anyone who tried found themselves on the business end of baton strikes or crossbow bolts, and since the ‘leaders’ of the gang didn’t give much of a damn about one neighborhood, their subordinates didn’t feel particularly inspired to keep showing up unsupported. She would be sure to compliment Sophia’s efforts on that, a rare instance of diplomatic necessity being in line with honest opinion. Anyone that made her home better was an ally and friend, so long as they didn’t commit unnecessarily egregious sins in the pursuit of their efforts.

It didn’t take her long to reach her objective, a two-story colonial that had probably been worth a pretty penny back when real estate in Brockton Bay had some actual value to it. There was a well-tended garden out front, a patch of beauty that was all to rare these days, with carefully trimmed shrubbery surrounded by iris, roses, and crocuses. A cherry-red Corolla, perhaps the most stereotypical small commuting car in history, sat in the driveway beside what was probably the smallest and least-modified motorcycle she had ever seen. She hadn’t noticed any of this when she had...borrowed Sophia for their chat the other day ( _kidnapped_ just sounded so lowbrow), but she could guess that the car belonged to Mrs. Hess and the bike to Sophia’s brother. It would be amusing if it were the other way around, though. Perhaps a teasing joke to break the ice with Sophia once she got inside…?

Knocking on the door, she waited the handful of seconds for it to be answered, and she blinked somewhat in surprise to see a tall, lighter complexioned young man answer the door instead of Sophia or her mother. This must be her brother Robert, then, and she supposed it was foolish to be surprised that he had opened the door, given that she had been thinking about his presence here not moments ago.

“You must be Soph’s friend Taylor. C’mon in, she said you would be by.” he greeted her with a smile, a smile she returned as she crossed the threshold into the mud room. Seeing the stocking feet of her host, she knelt to remove her own high-tops without any verbal prompting, earning a smile of appreciation as she did so. As they moved into the house, he gestured to the staircase leading upstairs. “Head on up, hers is the room with the adorably cute attempt at a threatening sign on the door.”

“I heard that!” Sophia shouted from upstairs, and he winked at her as he raised his voice to bellow back.

“You can deny it all you like, but you are adorable and always will be! Especially when you try to act scary!”

Smiling at the sibling interplay, and the irritated affection lacing Sophia as they sparred back and forth, Taylor reflected how glad she was that Sophia had an older sibling to (even with manifest reluctance) spend time with or seek advice from. Father only knew how she could have turned out without that support structure, unknowing though her brother might be of Sophia’s nightly activities. She suspected it wouldn’t have been pretty, not with how damaged Sophia was emotionally, but the worst was averted and she would help Sophia improve from here.

As Robert had told her, it was easy to find Sophia’s room, as there was a pair of signs on the door. The top was plastic and read ‘Trespassers will be shot. Survivors will be shot again.” While the bottom was cardboard and read “I’ll shoot YOU _three_ times, Bobby!” Adorable.

A quiet knock and an invitation to enter later, and Taylor was standing in Sophia’s room for the second time in a handful of days.

               “It’s good to see you again, Sophia. Your mother’s motorcycle is rather nice, I must admit. Does your brother ever borrow it to try and impress the girls?” she quipped a little awkwardly, and Sophia snorted in response.

               “Yes, actually, he does.” Her tone was biting but amused, and Taylor blinked. She honestly hadn’t expected the motorcycle to belong to the mother rather than the brother, and Sophia noticed her surprise and smiled faintly. “My mom has always been a bit of a ‘rebel’, at least as far as most people would be concerned. She stopped riding when I was a baby since you can’t exactly put a car seat on the back of a bike. Once I got old enough, she got it out of storage and gave her car to Bobby.”

               “Sounds like your mom and mine would have gotten along very well if they had ever met.” Taylor’s voice was quite, eyes a little sad and distant, and Sophia shifted somewhat in discomfort, unused to hearing the other girl sound anything other than composed.

               “Your mom, the fallen angel? Should my mom feel complimented or insulted?” she found herself asking, partly from a desire to change the subject and partly to start the conversation they were here for. Taylor gave a sharp bark of laughter and shook her head, seeming genuinely amused for a moment.

               “Both, I suppose. I suppose I need to give you a bit of backround, really. When Lucifer Fell, he and those who followed him did so out of a desire to supplant Our Father, to dominate and control and destroy as they saw fit. His reasons are his own, though mom had her theories, but it was their cause that damned them. Mom and her fellow Fallen were different, they Fell because they wanted to guide Humanity. They felt that, as the First Children of God, they should guide and protect we, the Younger Children. The point remained, however, that they defied His commands and had to be punished, so they became Fallen Angels instead of Demons, or Devils as they are more commonly called.” She explained, leaning against a wall somewhat casually, arms folded under her breasts. Sophia found her eyes lingering on those mounds, lifted by those arms, for a long moment before she could drag them back up to Taylor’s laughing eyes. “Our ancestors called them Grigori, “Those Who Keep Watch”, because they kept an eternal vigil over man to keep Devils at bay whenever possible. Over time an uneasy truce sprang up between the Three Factions, because the conflict was growing so destructive the very beings they were fighting over, us, were in danger of being wiped out, along with the Factions themselves. Then, mom came here from her native Earth. After a long time, she met Dad, they had me, and here we are.”

               “So, you’re telling me that God is real, Satan is real, and you really are half angel and half human?” Sophia was rather skeptical, somewhat more than one might expect of someone who was literally speaking with an angelic being, but then it was hard to see God in a hellhole like Earth Bet.

               “Of course they are. Did you think everything that is, was, and shall be occurred because of random chance?” Taylor scoffed, flicking the thought away in amused contempt, smirking at her when she rolled her eyes. “Sophia, I do not know where any of my Kin are, regardless of which Faction they fall into, but I can tell you that Heaven and Hell alike are connected to Earth Bet as they are to every other Earth. They are sealed off, permitting the entrance of souls but allowing nothing to leave. Why, I do not know, but they _are_ here. And someday I will find the answers to my questions.”

               “Why haven’t you gone to Haven, then? I mean, if you are what you say you are, you could have them following your every command in seconds if you really wanted too.” Came the slightly suspicious question, and Taylor shrugged one shoulder in response.

               “They might, but I would rather have people following me when I have earned their loyalty and friendship, not simply because of who and what I am. Loyalty that isn’t personal is shallow and hollow, and that means that it will inevitably collapse at the worst imaginable moment.” She responded, surprising Sophia with her calculated foresight. “Besides, there is far too much to be done here in Brockton Bay, I can’t worry about the rest of the country or the world yet. The best we can do is help find and heal people during major attacks. None of us can take on S-rank threats yet.”

               “That’s more than most people can do.” Sophia commented absently, thinking intently about what she had been told. The fact that The Trio were different from everyone else was not unexpected, frankly, because anyone with eyes could _tell_ that much just by looking at them. The fact that they were powerful was also to be expected, even if they had been restrained in every conflict they had engaged. All the religion stuff she pushed aside, if only for the moment, because she quite frankly _couldn’t_ deal with it at the moment. “So why didn’t you do something to make me obey you? You could have, if you wanted, Emma made that much clear. You could have used those rings of yours to make me helpless and do some Stockholm bullshit, too, so why didn’t you? Is my power not useful enough to your grand plan, or something?”

               “Didn’t I just say that I wanted willfully given loyalty and friendship, not forced?” Taylor’s voice was a little sharp, offended by the implications, and Sophia raised a somewhat unimpressed eyebrow in response. Snorting in exasperated irritation and lamentation at her friends’ pain-forged cynicism, she moved from the wall to sit on Sophia’s bed. “I won’t let the taste of power or the desire for more turn me into something like Lucifer. My mom and her siblings gave everything they had to help humans, and I’m not going to spit on that sacrifice by abandoning the morals she raised me with.”

               “Can you really save the world like that? I’m glad that you don’t want to be _evil_ , Taylor, but this world requires hard choices.” Bitterness and passion wove together as Sophia spoke, slouching beside her and staring out the window with eyes that were more than a little lost. “I tried it the Ward way, you know? Showed up, stuck a crossbow in a few faces, maybe punched a couple people out, nothing too serious. You know what that accomplished? _Nothing_. Next time they came, they had guns and knives instead of fists or bats. So I winged a couple with bolts, got a little blood on the ground, and even that didn’t keep them away for long. It wasn’t until I was willing to get it stuck in that they gave up, it wasn’t until I was as willing to kill them as they were to kill me that they realized one neighborhood wasn’t really worth the trouble.”

               “Sounds to me like you’re worried about me going too far because you already have.” Taylor pointed out, and Sophia scoffed again. Those lost eyes turned to Taylor, boring into her own with a dark fire hidden in their depths.

               “I’m worried because _you_ going ‘too far’ is a lot more dangerous than if I do it. You’re a hundred times more powerful than I am, Taylor. I can turn into mist and shoot a mini-crossbow. You, you can flatten a _city block_ as easily as most people breathe. If the idea of you going renegade or losing yourself in a fight didn’t scare me, I would have to be insane instead of just damaged. Never mind the fact that at least one of the world’s largest religions would literally throw themselves at your feet because of what you are. You say you will refuse to become like The Devil? I worry about what will happen if you _fail_. Can you guarantee that you won’t?”

               “…I cannot. I face the same temptations that plague every human, and they are greater still because of who and what I am. The very same power that I hold and that would allow me to do so in turn makes it more desirable.” Taylor admitted calmly, though unhappily, slipping unconsciously into the more formalized speech of her cape persona, laying one hand over her heart symbolically. “What I can guarantee is that I desire companionship from people like you, people who will make sure I stay _grounded_ , who will make sure that I do not allow that temptation to overwhelm me. You and Emma, you will be my Anchors, my Morality Chains. The people that keep me human in here.”

               “Not Charlotte?” Sophia asked, flattered and somewhat reassured by the other girl’s faith in the morality of someone who had already admitted they had gone too far.

               “I care for Charlotte deeply, but sometimes her faith in me can blind her. Emma has known me my entire life and would notice if I acted out of character. You do not trust me and will watch me carefully.” Was the somewhat embarrassed reply, the Nephilim sounding somewhat unsure of how to feel about what she was saying. “For all the things that you have done to protect your neighborhood, you’re not beyond healing yet. In time you might have been, but with support from people who understand your struggle you will avoid it. I will raise you to your feet and help you find stable ground, and in turn you will keep me from stumbling.”

Sophia stared at her, their eyes meeting solidly and unwaveringly for a full minute as they searched one another for deception and understanding.  On the one hand, a part of her was left blushing and warm by the amount of trust that Taylor seemed to be placing in her, given the aborted assassination attempt not long ago. The same part of her that had been unable to tear her eyes from every water-slicked curve of Taylor’s body the first night. On the other, the part of her that had been hardened and turned into a suspicious, almost hatefully bitter pessimist by the cesspool of her world feared that this was nothing more than a ploy to win her loyalty and slowly manipulate her into acts of evil. The question, in the end, was simple: did she trust in Taylor, or not?

               “Alright then, but I’ll be keeping my eyes on you at all times.” She said finally, her decision made with her heart rather than her head. Something she had not done in a long time, and she prayed she didn’t come to regret it.

               “Oh? Does that mean you’ll be watching me shower and dress some more? My own little Shadow Stalker, an admirer watching from the trees. How lasciviously delightful!” Taylor teased her, and dark skin blushed brightly as Sophia realized that Taylor knowing she had been there all along _also_ meant Taylor had put on a show for her. “How bold of you, even Charlotte hasn’t been so forward yet!”

Blushing and stuttering denials that were distinctly unconvincing, Sophia wished in that moment to disappear…though a certain part of her noted that Taylor obviously had no problem with the idea or had even enjoyed it. That same part may or may not of felt a thrill of lust and excitement at that particular realization, not that Sophia would ever acknowledge as such to anyone, herself included.

##########################################################################

Some 400 miles to the south-west, within the capital of the United States, the Senator of Wisconsin was elbow deep in paperwork regarding the latest of The Simurgh’s attacks. His constituents, and millions more Americans nation-wide, were terrified of the damage done to Madison and the damage that could be done by what the media called ‘Ziz Bombs’. Brainwashed, Master-controlled sleeper agents that could detonate at any moment in acts of sabotage and terror designed to sow chaos and help accomplish some convoluted, horrifying plot by the most nightmarish of the Endbringers. Oh, Leviathan and Behemoth were bad, terrible even. The damage they could do in an attack was immense, but it was also comparatively _clean_. People died, buildings were leveled, but that was the end of it. The Simurgh, however, could do damage unnoticed for years or ignored as regular PTSD. She not only killed, but she violated _minds_ , and to the vast majority of people alive that was far more evil and frightening.

The sound of his office door opening only partially drew his attention, and he shifted a pair of folders near his right elbow to clear a spot on the mahogany surface of his desk.

               “Thank you, Brenda, just leave it here. Two sugars, I hope, or have your compatriots emptied our supply again?” he asked absently, highlighting an important sentence for later review and investigation.

               “I’m afraid Miss Caulfield and the rest of your staff are seeing to an unfortunate issue with your online filing program that will keep them busy for the next ten minutes. Presumably, your appropriately sugared drink will arrive sometime after that.” A male voice, sounding somewhat amused, drawled from the entrance. His head snapped up, eyes narrowing and mouth opening to deliver a sharp rebuke, but it died in his throat as he recognized his visitor. “Hello again, Johnathon. So good to see you again.”

               “What are you doing here, and what the hell did you do to my staff?” he thundered, rising to his feet and planting his fists on the desk, scowling across the breadth of the room at the other man.

               “Now, now, no need to get so angry, Johnathon. We are friends after all, aren’t we? I just though I would drop by for a nice visit, maybe catch up on your wife and kids. How _are_ your wife and kids, Johnathon? Doing well, I hope?” the intruder’s bland tone of voice did little to settle him, and he swelled with renewed fury. Before he could unleash a tirade fit to deafen eardrums hallway across the Capitol, the other man continued. “What if we could help each other, Senator? What if I could guarantee that your family gets fully screened and quietly evacuated from the Madison Quarantine Zone? A few words in the right ears and everyone will believe that they were at a lake cabin enjoying a brief, unreported and private vacation when the tragedy struck?”

The Senator ground his teeth, indignant by the continued familiarity and flippant way the other man spoke to him, and especially the reference to his family, trapped even now within Madison. God only knew how they were doing, with communications still disrupted and rioting reported almost daily as the city dissolved into paranoia and panic.

               “What do you want?” he asked, a tight leash on his temper, and he received an enigmatic smile in response.

               “Why, Senator, I want you to help me protect our country. Nothing more, and it will hardly place your career in danger. In fact, you may even be praised for it when all is said and done. Your family returned to you and a boost to your career that could have you being sworn in as POTUS before long. That sounds enticing, doesn’t it, Johnathon? Why don’t you think it over? I’ll be in touch soon, don’t you worry.”

A moment later the man was gone, and the Senator slumped back down into his chair, head resting in his hands as he stared with unseeing eyes at his paper-laden desk. He didn’t move from that spot for a long time, barely noticing when his flustered aide entered, place coffee at his elbow, and withdrew again. In fact, he didn’t move again until the clock struck the hour, and he returned to his paperwork with a mouth set in grim lines and a determined heart.

After all, what man wouldn’t sacrifice anything and everything to protect his family?

###############################################################

 


End file.
